Lost Treasures
by jazwriter
Summary: AU where Andy is a window display designer at a small resale shop, and her decorations cause quite a stir, even catching Miranda's eye. Miranda becomes fascinated & sets out to convince Andy to remain in her life in some capacity. Reposted into chapters.
1. Prologue

Lost Treasures

writtensword presented a prompt on January 14, 2011 at the LiveJournal DWP page, which I decided to use. I changed it up a bit from what she suggested—I hope you don't mind, WS!

Summary: Slightly AU where Andy never worked for Miranda. Instead, she works at a small clothing boutique where she convinces the owners to let her design the window displays. The decorations quickly cause quite a stir, even catching Miranda's attention. Miranda decides to have _Runway_ feature the shop and its designs, including an interview of the window display designer. Recognizing Andy's talents, Miranda becomes fascinated and sets out to convince Andy to leave the little boutique for bigger and better things. Her interest in Andy transforms from business to personal in her quest to keep Andy in her life.

Disclaimers: I was going to write a really technical, legal version here about how I am not earning any money off of this story and am merely offering it for entertainment value, protected by the fair use doctrine (in a much more impressive format, of course); forget that—you all know. Plus, I'm a real piss-ant, so if you are the owner of the characters, book, movie—whatever—and want to sue me, go ahead and try. Bring it on. I have a law degree, and I'm not afraid to use it.

Further Disclaimers: Natalee Smith is an original character I created in an earlier story, Secret Service. In addition, Lost Treasures is a fictional boutique I created especially for this story.

Rating: NC-17 baby! Just not right away.

Timeline/ages: Starts out around September. Miranda is still Miranda. Her children are a few years older than what is usually presented—I placed them as teenagers.

**Author's Notes (aka shameless plug):** Good news, good news! My book, Castles Built on Clouds, is now available on Kindle worldwide! For all those people who have enjoyed my fanfiction and who love ebooks, this is your chance to read my published book. It is literary fiction, set in modern times. You can read the synopsis on my LJ page or at the Amazon website.

Even if you don't subscribe to ebooks, you can purchase the book online. I want to be clear that no same-sex physical relationships are in this book, although it is all about three women and their spiritual evolution as their lives intersect one summer. In fact, there are heterosexual relationships. Nevertheless, I hope you'll give it a shot!

**Betas are awesome!** Please spare a moment or three to give silent thanks and praise to some very hard-working individuals—my betas, quiethearted, peetsden, and shesgottaread. They all read and edited this story TWICE—not once, TWICE. Aren't they awesome? Also, thanks go to dhamphir and akasarahsmom for their support and kind words while I pulled out my hair and complained about various silly problems I uttered as rationalizations for not finishing the story.

This long story consists of a Prologue, ten chapters, and an Epilogue—about 42,000 words. All parts are up and linked. Enjoy!

**spacegoose** converted the story to an ePub format. If anyone wants a copy, let me know here or PM me with your e-mail address, and I will forward it to you. THANK YOU SPACEGOOSE!

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Looking out the window at the cool, autumnal day, Andy grinned with delight. Harold Powers had finally, finally agreed to her request, pleadings really, to let her try her hand at decorating the windows in his boutique. Normally, his wife designed the windows with the latest fashions. Grace did a good job, but it was apparent, at least to Andy, that she approached it as a task instead of an opportunity to connect with those who viewed the displays. She did not enjoy this part of her responsibilities, while Andy coveted it, yearned to create what her imagination so vividly conjured. And now Harold was giving her that chance.

The boutique was located two blocks south of Saks on Fifth Avenue in the Diamond District. Every day Andy walked past the well-known department stores, greedily soaking up the diverse personalities reflected by their window displays. Andy had so many ideas of how to promote the boutique where she worked—she vibrated with excitement now that she was being given the opportunity.

Once the boutique closed, Andy could get to work. Normally, Grace just started decorating whenever she had the time, but Andy wanted to make the changes in the display without having to worry about being interrupted. Maybe she was just being a bit of a romantic, a bit theatrical even, but Andy wanted to create the changes without anyone seeing her do it—as if little fairies had waved their wands or elves had delivered a gift to those walking by the store. No one wanted to actually see the work occurring—they just wanted to appreciate the end result. At least during the time she had worked at the boutique she had earned her boss's trust enough so that he had agreed that she could decorate the windows overnight. It was perfect since she could sleep in the next day—her day off—as long as Nate wasn't a jerk.

Although he worked late on the weekends, Nate expected her to be home whenever he was. The boutique was small, however, and Andy ended up working most nights. With these new responsibilities, she would be out even later. Today, she had arrived at work when the store had opened, and although she supposed she should feel tired by now, she vibrated with anticipation. It wiped away all the long hours spent on her feet and made her feel giddy as possibilities danced before her eyes.

The challenges were working without a budget, without props, without anything to help her but the clothes in the boutique, mannequins, some art supplies, and her ingenuity. Perhaps if she did a good job, she could convince Harold to expend a small amount of money on the window dressings, provided of course that business picked up.

Andy had a plan, though. She had decided to pay tribute to great literature.

Taking out a sketch pad, Andy reviewed her drawings. She had many ideas harking back to the greats from which to choose. Even if no one noticed the displays, they would make her happy. She had always loved books, the magic of falling into them, traveling to different worlds where she experienced others' lives. They took her away from her own travails, if only for a little while. Over the years books had taught her about courage and weakness, wonder and disgust. They had helped her to grow and expand her thinking. They had helped her to navigate through her own life challenges. Andy knew she was not talented enough to touch people the way such authors had affected her, but she aspired to make a difference somehow. This was her way—in a small boutique—of reaching out.

Skimming through her drawings, Andy thought of her earlier conversation with Harold.

"_Please let me try, Harold. Grace spends so much time here, and I know she'd rather devote it toward what she loves instead of decorating windows. I have some ideas I'd love to try. Just let me try this once, and if you hate it or we get complaints, you'll never have to let me do it again." Andy had trotted out her best puppy-dog look, gazing through lowered eyelashes as she'd clasped her hands to her chest and held her breath. She even had fluttered her eyelashes, knowing that Harold would get a kick out of her obsequious behavior._

_A negligent wave and a loud chuckle had preceded his answer. "Sure, sure, Andy. Take a shot at it. I'm sure Grace could use the break. But only with what we have, okay? We don't have a budget for window designs. Generate some customers, and we'll see."_

It was funny to think of how she had run after a dream to write for so many years only to find herself firmly entrenched in fashion. She had fought with her father, who had wanted her to attend law school, for the chance to come to New York and work for a newspaper that would reach more people than their local periodicals. She hadn't even wanted to apply to law school, only doing so to appease her father, who had been practicing law for more than twenty years. Yet, Andy had experienced a rude awakening when she had found herself unable to find work in New York, even after sending her resumé around for several months. What was worse, she had gone so far as to interview for a second assistant spot to the editor-in-chief of _Runway_, only to be turned away by Miranda Priestly herself with a sneer and dismissive eye-flick. Andy had never felt so humiliated in her entire life.

On that day ten months ago, Andy had felt her writing aspirations die. She had realized just how arrogant and naïve she had been to believe she could move to the City, become a journalist, and make a difference. A few weeks after that illuminating interview, Andy had answered an ad to work at the boutique. She had learned from her mistake and dressed much more carefully, borrowing money from her dad to purchase the proper clothes. Andy's refusal to acknowledge couture in favor of acting like a serious journalist had been immature and unpractical.

Her mother would have been so disappointed in her. When Andy was a child, she used to play dress up with the grand gowns and fancy clothes her mother had owned. Barbara Sachs had grown up with money, often attending social events where artists and politicians mingled. Before she had met Andy's father, an eclectic group of artists, politicians, and writers had gathered monthly at her mother's estate, passing the day trading ideas, laughing, and connecting. After she had met and married Richard Sachs, her mother had slowly pulled away from those wild, bohemian days to become a respectable wife, as defined by his parents.

As Andy had grown older, her mother had shared her love for fashion with Andy by teaching her how to combine colors, fabrics, and styles to create the perfect look. Her mother had died three years ago, devastating those she had left behind. Andy could not look at couture without remembering her. And yet here she was surrounded by it every day. She had realized once she had bombed the _Runway_ interview that if she were going to survive in the City, she needed to dress the part and stop her juvenile rebelling against anything that reminded her of her mother.

The owners of the shop had hired Andy immediately. Although her responsibilities had nothing to do with her dreams to write, they did feed into her more aesthetic tendencies, and over time those pangs of grief had dulled to a manageable level. In fact, she had somehow found her way back to loving couture, and when she thought of her mother and clothes, it created a welling of warmth in her breast.

Andy settled into the position easily, finding herself able to connect with the boutique's eclectic clientele without much difficulty. The pay wasn't great since she was a commissioned sales employee with a meager salary base, but Andy was able to sell enough pieces each month to cover her portion of the bills. It helped that Harold was good about giving her as many hours as she needed to meet her financial goals.

Over the last few months Harold began giving Andy more responsibilities—often sending her to designer showrooms to pick up clothes, allowing her to open or close the shop, and even talking to her more about the pieces in the store. As she had before her mother's death, Andy found that every aspect of fashion fascinated her. If only she had woken up a bit sooner to the realization that avoiding fashion would not bring her mother back, Andy might be working for the premier fashion magazine in the country if not the world right now.

Shaking her head to rid herself of such thoughts, and by extension of the no-nonsense editor-in-chief at _Runway_ with the indifferent mask and cool voice, Andy returned her attention to her plans for the windows. If she could not write to touch others and make a difference, she could affect passersby through the visual expression of her voice with a little help from literary masters. Grinning with anticipation, Andy began to catalog what she would need. She didn't care what Miranda Priestly thought or didn't think of her—she knew she had the ability to make a difference. And she would.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Another day, another disappointment. Miranda sighed, rolling her head to loosen her neck muscles. It had been another long day filled with incompetence and delays. In addition, she had missed dinner with Stephen. Again. Married for three years, Miranda could already see the signs that their marriage was breaking apart. She didn't know what to do to fill the cracks and strengthen the foundation. She didn't know that she had the energy to try.

Well, that wasn't really the truth. She always had energy for what she deemed important. She didn't know whether he was worth the effort. Whether marriage was worth the effort. He just kept sucking her dry, demanding more and more of her time. And when they spent time together, it was unpleasant—filled with loaded silences and accusing stares. She no longer wished to expend time trying to placate him, not when it was so clear that nothing she did, nothing she said, would be enough.

Ever since she had missed their anniversary dinner, he had ratcheted up the hostility, accompanied by a healthy dose of alcohol. _Liquid courage, indeed._ His behavior lately had embarrassed her, not that he cared. Last month he had arrived at an important gala obviously inebriated and called her boss—Irving Ravitz, the CEO of Elias-Clarke—a little man. He wasn't even trying anymore—why should she? He was intimidated by her power, emasculated by her fame. She had not realized just how threatened he felt by her success. And now too many words had been said, too much vitriol expended, leading her to believe that they could not repair the gap in their relationship. Better to let it die while retaining what little dignity remained. Perhaps if she let him go, they could remain civil during social situations. Miranda sniffed.

It was the end of September, and the air was sharp with the taste of red leaves and warm apple cider. The girls had requested that they walk in Central Park this weekend to see the distinctively colored foliage—so bright as it died, Nature's last wave given in farewell. A last ditch effort to be noticed before falling to the ground and becoming trampled by the multitude of people strolling about without noticing the transition of life. Like the seasons of fashion, so Nature changed her clothes. Beautiful. Transient. Ephemeral. Dead.

Perhaps relationships were not meant to last. Perhaps, like the seasons, they grew, matured, and withered.

Perhaps…

"Roy, stop the car." Staring through her window, Miranda searched for the storefront that had caught her eye and pulled her away from her depressing thoughts. She exited the vehicle, turning to her left to walk a block north. There.

Miranda stood to the side, mesmerized as people stopped to peer at the display of a small resale shop. Lost Treasures was a clothing store with two display windows. Miranda had never paid much attention to it; she had never had a reason. Standing on the sidewalk, though, she took note as she swallowed her astonishment of the people milling around or standing much as she was.

In front of her were two scenes directly out of _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_. One window featured La Esmeralda dancing as Quasimodo bowed, watching. The hunchback wore a luxurious fox mink long coat, deerskin pants, and dark leather boots. His misshapen shoulders were parallel with the gypsy's outstretched hands, his head tilted upward in supplication. Miranda nearly smiled, recognizing the pose, the obvious deference the outcast presented to the free-spirited, young lady. The natural colors and fabrics on the male character contrasted well with the bright, bold colors hung on La Esmeralda.

Her clothing draped loosely in cascading waves of vibrant purples and fiery oranges—her Udolfo silk tunic contrasting beautifully with the maxi skirt as it lay splayed across her lower body while one leg was frozen in the air, bent at the knee. The head of hair on the mannequin was held back with a coral-encrusted band, and a necklace of long, dark-colored, chunky stone strands hung against a fitted bodice. Vintage knee-high boots with wedge heels completed the bohemian outfit. Lanterns, softly lit, cast shadows that emphasized La Esmeralda's splendor and Quasimodo's repulsiveness. And yet, Miranda felt her heart stir with sympathy for the ill-fated man. A charcoal drawing of a magnificent cathedral hung behind them, cluing in those less read of the context for the displays. Of course, Miranda couldn't help but think that the hunchback would clarify the classic story.

The second window boasted Archdeacon Claude Frollo arrogantly standing with a hand holding on to one of the double-breasted lapels of an Armani black, pin-striped suit. He stood confidently with his head tilted slightly downward, as if he were deigning to look at La Esmeralda. One of his hands extended in a sweeping motion as the gypsy looked on like a caged animal. A black silk, button-down shirt worn underneath the suit, satin black cape with red lining, and black square military boots completed Frollo's elegant but menacing look. Although appearing suave and powerful, one could easily see him as an evil bully. His boots told the story.

His superior stance was offset by a meek, attractive La Esmeralda. Her hair hung freely this time in exquisite ringlets while she wore a fitted, floor-length leather coat with fur lining, another long skirt, and soft, ankle-high, fawn-colored boots. The colors of her clothing reflected nature through deep greens and chestnut browns. On her wrist an emerald bracelet hung daintily as she held her Donna Karan antiqued-leather maxi skirt up, appearing ready to flee.

Miranda cocked her head as her eyes jumped over the displays. Every piece of clothing, every accessory helped to tell the story. And every piece was couture. She did not try to stop a small smile from crossing her face. Whoever had designed these window displays had vision—something so few people seemed to possess.

Breathing in deeply, Miranda nodded and strode back to the town car. Once inside the comfortable interior, she retrieved her phone and dialed the office. "Nigel. I want a write up about the window displays at Lost Treasures to run in the next issue under Hot Spots. Make it happen." With a sigh, Miranda closed her eyes as the display replayed through her mind. Good work deserved to be rewarded. "Intriguing," she murmured. She would keep an eye on this boutique. She hoped it wasn't just a fluke, that the designs would continue to astound and delight. Only time would tell. She lived on hope.

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><p>Andy stood against a brick wall next to the boutique, eyes wide, after watching a silver-haired beauty exit a silver Mercedes and halt off to the side, staring at her window displays. Not just any silver-haired beauty—Miranda Priestly, the woman who had dashed her dreams and made her feel unworthy of breathing the same air. Andy had pulled on the bill of her baseball cap to hide her eyes, tugging at the collar of her Eddie Bauer coat as she'd stepped over to a nearby stoop. Not that Miranda had noticed her. Even if she had, she would not have remembered her. Andy was on her way to pick up her paycheck so she could shop for groceries. Seeing the unforgettable editor glide toward the boutique had thrown her for a loop.<p>

Unable to rip her eyes away from the formidable woman, Andy had watched Miranda tilt her head in contemplation as her eyes had run over the displays. Andy had held her breath, transfixed. Distractedly she had heard murmurings of pedestrians stopping to look. She was pleased to hear positive feedback, exclamations from many as they recognized the scenes she had worked all night to create. Several people had entered the store to look around. Andy hoped they were buying something right now.

Decorating the windows had proven to be more fun than she had anticipated. When she had finished in the wee hours of the morning, a sense of accomplishment and pride had washed over her. The most challenging aspect had been creating the facial features on the mannequins. She had used removable materials—a combination of markers, pencils, and make-up, to express Quasimodo's yearning, Frollo's haughtiness, and La Esmeralda's innocence with the hunchback and fear of the Archdeacon. She was pleased with the results. For the first time she felt as if her vision was touching others—making them stop and stare, comment and ponder. She knew Harold would allow her to do this again—just during the short time she had been standing here a dozen potential clients had entered the store.

Andy smiled happily. Her smile broadened as she remembered seeing a small curl of the lips appear on Miranda's face before she had nodded and strode off just a few minutes ago. Still rooted to the spot, Andy blinked rapidly. She couldn't believe how one small smile had transformed the editor's regal bearing into more than merely an intimidating businesswoman. For that moment, she had seemed softer, more approachable, warmer.

Andy shook herself much like a wet dog would. This was Miranda Priestly, the woman who had dismissed her without a second thought. She'd do well to take her example by not wasting another moment thinking about her.

If only she could take her own advice.

Released from her paralysis once the silver Mercedes rolled away, Andy entered the boutique, a noticeable spring to her step. She pulled off her hat and fluffed her bangs as she looked around. Both Grace and Harold were speaking to people, and Andy crossed her fingers, hoping they sold several items. In such a small store, every sale counted. Andy's eyes lit up as she watched Harold take some items and carry them to the register, two women following. From what Andy could see, they were purchasing long, flowing skirts similar to what La Esmeralda wore. Catching Harold's eye, Andy gave a little wave and walked toward the back room to retrieve her check.

On the desk sat her week's pay with a note scribbled on the envelope to see Harold. A nervous tremor raced through her even as she gave herself a pep talk. She had nothing to fear—she had just seen more people in the store presently than she had in the past week.

"There you are," Harold said jovially as he swept into the office. He stopped in front of Andy and smiled broadly. "I wish I had taken you up on your offer to design the window displays sooner, Andy. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of people. We've sold more today than in the last month."

"Really? That's wonderful, Harold! I am so glad." Andy grinned.

"Yup. So that responsibility is officially yours. And, if business continues like this, not only will I be able to place some money aside for a props budget, but also an increase in your salary. I know you are just scraping by, and we haven't been able to give you a raise yet because, well, you don't need me to tell you." Harold clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Anyway, let's give it another month, and if the money's there, you'll get a proper bump in your pay to go with your added responsibilities."

"Thank you! I promise I'll do my best to create great window displays."

"I know, Andy. We're lucky to have you." Harold looked toward the door. "I'd better get back out there. Enjoy your day off. See you tomorrow."

"Yup. See you later," Andy said as she watched him swagger through the door. As soon as the door closed, Andy spun around, exhilarated. "Woohoo!" Pumping her fist in the air, Andy giggled. If people continued to purchase items, Andy had the potential of earning a great commission. With the salary boost, maybe she'd even be able to start saving money for the leaner months. Although the thought of cutting back her hours flitted through her mind, she quickly dismissed it. She'd rather work the same long hours and earn as much money as possible.

Noticing the time displayed on the old-fashioned clock-radio sitting on the desk, Andy stopped her little celebration. She had tons of errands to finish. Nate was working late, but he had insisted she stop by the restaurant for dinner later tonight where he was training to be a sous-chef. Pulling her hat back on, she reviewed her mental list and set out to complete it.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Over the last couple of weeks, Miranda had made a habit of viewing the window displays at Lost Treasures. Depending on her schedule and mood, she would direct Roy to pass the boutique, and if it was still open, she would note the impressive crowds that inevitably paused to admire them. The intelligence, creativity, and heart reflected through the designs eased Miranda's stress level, stress caused by the ever-present pressures of her job and her failed marriage.

Shortly after the display was revealed and Miranda had directed Nigel to add a write up about the store in the next issue, they had traveled to Paris for the all-important fashion week. It was during that time Miranda had been forced to quash Irv's attempts to dethrone her from her position as editor-in-chief, throw a dear, respected colleague's dreams aside, and face the dismal process of a looming divorce. Stephen had delivered the divorce paperwork to her while she was abroad, perhaps not caring to hear her plead for another chance. Not that she would have resorted to such methods at this late juncture. It was best to let him go.

During that hectic, life-changing week, Miranda had found her mind returning to the window displays repeatedly. It proved to be a balm to her frayed nerves. If this month's displays were also satisfactory, she had decided she would take steps to feature the small boutique in the January issue, including the mysterious creator of the designs.

Nigel had determined that the designer and dresser of the windows were the same person—not a surprise given the size and stature of the boutique. The owners were extremely forthcoming with their information, but it was clear they did not know much about this person—Miranda's eyes flicked down toward a piece of paper with Nigel's handwriting—this Andy Sachs, other than that the employee had started as a salesclerk and recently requested the chance to design and dress the windows.

Miranda swept her eyes over her paperwork before deciding to take a drive. "Emily," she called in a soft voice. As soon as she arrived, Miranda said, "I'll be leaving in five minutes. Push back my meeting with accounting to 3:00 PM, and clean this up." Miranda waved vaguely at her desk where the remains of her lunch sat to one side. Emily nodded as she picked up the plate and cup. Miranda could hear her calling Roy. She smirked.

Nowadays, Emily was very efficient. Before Paris, Emily had seemed distracted, even going so far as to allow a taxi to hit her and break her leg. Losing her ability to attend Paris Fashion Week had crushed the redhead, but really, how could she have expected to go while hobbling along on crutches? Instead, she had manned the desks at the empty _Runway_ office, communicating with the junior assistant each day to help as much as she was able. In some moment of selflessness, the junior assistant had brought back some couture for Emily. Since their return, Miranda's assistants had worked seamlessly together, and although Emily still wore a cast, she always gave her focused best. If she continued to perform well, Miranda would have to think of an appropriate reward. The redhead's time to move on was fast approaching.

Of course, Miranda also needed to find a way to reward Nigel for his loyalty. Even after she had been forced to take a dream opportunity away from him in order to save her own position, he had remained by her side. Miranda, knowing that she had hurt him, pretended not to notice his dampened spirit or sad, sad eyes. She chose to treat him as she always had, her right-hand man. This time, though, she would take care to find a position that would excite him, challenge him, and fulfill him, much as she used to feel while at work each day. Miranda shook her head. What was the matter with her? _Runway_ still excited her, challenged her. Fulfilled, though? Not quite. Not anymore. Not like it used to.

Striding through the outer office, Miranda accepted her purse and coat without pausing. Roy stood next to the town car, hand on the handle of the open door and a polite expression on his face as Miranda slid in. "Bring me to Lost Treasures," Miranda instructed.

Miranda knew the boutique would be changing its display any day now. She felt a ripple of anticipation roll through her. With all the difficulties she had faced over the last few months, this was her guilty pleasure, the bright light in an otherwise inky reality.

The car stopped in front of the shop, and Miranda looked on in shock. A large crowd milled around, many eventually making their way inside the store. Miranda gazed at the displays, experiencing disquiet and approval. It was as compelling as the previous month. "Stay here," she ordered before climbing out.

Slowly Miranda approached the windows, cocking her head in thought. In the left window a tortured man in a black velvet cocktail jacket—Varvatos, she identified with approval—was seated at a table where a burnt-out candle, feather quill in a dented ink pot, and papers were chaotically strewn. Old tomes were stacked, one opened at his left elbow. A hand propped up his chin, as he glared at an excellent depiction of a closed door over which a raven perched on a bust of Pallas. Words on the handwritten letters jumped out at her like "raven," "midnight dreary," "Lenore," and "nevermore." This display was filled with shadows, allowing only enough illumination to be able to see the display's key parts.

In the second window a woman dressed in an ivory silk, ruffled evening dress from the Sean collection, with a fitted bodice and detailed beading throughout, stood in a well-lit space. She looked in the direction opposite to the man, and a mostly-hidden fan directed at her caused the bottom part of the dress to float upon the continuous stream of air. On the side of the display closest to the other window was a colored pencil drawing of an open window and trees. Behind the woman parts of the poem, "The Raven," by Edgar Allan Poe were displayed for all to read.

Miranda marveled at the textures, colors, and styles placed together to evoke a moody, dark display. For all the sorrow and heartache reflected, the display was beautiful and evocative. It did not escape her attention how well this display fed into Halloween. Nor was she disappointed to once again note that all the clothes and accessories were created by well-known designers.

After running her eyes over the display for a few more minutes, Miranda allowed a small smile to reach her lips. These designs well reflected her current life…she wondered whether that held true for the person who had turned out such a wonderful presentation. It was time to find out who had such vision. She would have Nigel approach the boutique for a spread, including an interview with the window display designer.

Turning away, Miranda looked around at the various people staring at the windows. A young woman wearing a knit cap, navy wool pea coat, and jeans was staring at her. She seemed familiar. Chestnut hair fell from under the hat, while cheeks flushed a becoming red from the brisk temperature emphasized sparkling chocolate-colored eyes. Miranda gazed at the woman, unable to turn away for some unfathomable reason. The distant ringing of the boutique door invaded her thoughts, though, and broke the spell. Firming her lips, Miranda returned to the car.

Nigel had mentioned to her how the store owners had eagerly offered the small amount of information they possessed regarding the window display designer. Yet, the information was practically nonexistent. No matter. Miranda would find out the truth.

Soon she would know all about this mysterious designer, and she would reward such ingenuity.

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><p>The crowds standing in front of Lost Treasures faded out as Andy leaned against the brick wall of a neighboring building. Miranda Priestly had just looked at her. In the eye. It had felt as if the fashion icon had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. Hard. Certainly her body believed it, judging by how fast her heart was beating. Shaking her head, Andy took a deep breath and exhaled. She had never experienced such a connection before. It was a little scary.<p>

When she had interviewed for the junior assistant's job, Andy had been too preoccupied with talking about her journalism background and willingness to work hard to really register the strong presence of the editor-in-chief. No longer pleading for a chance, Andy had nothing to distract her from the older woman's alluring aura of power and sensuality. She took Andy's breath away.

Feeling more in control, Andy refocused on the conversations swirling around her. People stood reading parts of the poem aloud, reminiscing about when they had first read it, usually in school. Andy felt exhilarated. People really liked her work, even the pencil drawings she had created—a necessary action since she had not had access to all the props she'd needed.

If they only knew the impetus for this display. Nate had up and left her without notice, taking a sous-chef job in Boston. Although he had hinted that they might be able to try a long-distance relationship, Andy didn't see how that could work when living together hadn't. He had not been willing to accept her long hours or her drive to do the best job she could at the small boutique. It didn't make sense. When she was the editor-in-chief for the _Daily Northwestern_, Northwestern's student-run newspaper, she had easily worked sixty hours per week. She also had reminded him that she was working so many hours to earn money to pay their expenses. After all, it wasn't as if he made that much at the restaurant. He hadn't wanted to hear it, though.

Andy still resented his harsh words for her work ethic and the time she continued to dedicate to the "pitiful little Saks'-wanna-be" boutique. That had hurt. He had ridiculed her efforts when he had seen last month's display, claiming most people didn't care about classic literature. Andy couldn't help thinking it was just him who didn't care because he didn't get it—ignorant ass.

She felt a cruel type of satisfaction remembering his shock when she had voiced such thoughts. The smile fell off just as quickly as a gust of wind made her shudder and hunch her shoulders forward. She didn't like sinking to that level. Yet, she was unwilling to fit the mold he had mentally created. She wasn't a potato. A sardonic chuckle slipped out. Perhaps he would have revered her if she were—lord knew he had rhapsodized over the various ways of preparing a potato often enough.

She would miss his grilled cheese sandwiches. How sad that after three years together, she would miss his cooking the most. They hadn't even had sex in the last few months. A true sign of how far apart they had grown, she had not missed his touch or yearned for his kiss. They had become roommates without her noticing.

The poem resonated with Andy. It was a way for her to deal with her conflicting emotions while she became accustomed to life without a boyfriend. She also had to deal with how her relationships with their mutual friends were also in transition. If not for her work, if not for the opportunity to lose herself in the window designs, Andy suspected she would be pretty damn upset right about now. She preferred to focus on what she could create, not destroy.

She had read recently that Miranda was getting a divorce. Another divorce. With two teen-aged girls, Andy couldn't help but sympathize. No matter how dismissive and, all right, cruel Miranda had acted during the two minutes they had spent together, Andy understood that how a person behaved at work could be entirely different from one's behavior with family. At any rate, Andy liked to think that the woman wasn't as evil and downright mean as others described her. Andy rubbed the back of her neck. Or as Andy had experienced firsthand.

A happy smile resurfaced as she watched the crowd fluctuate but not lessen over the next ten minutes. It was a real ego boost, and she desperately needed to feel bolstered. She needed to feel that she made a difference, that others appreciated her—or at least her talent—that she was worthy of the accolades she heard. Already ideas for the end of October and the next few months swam through her mind. She would start sketching them out today. Maybe, if sales remained steady, Harold would prove good on his promise by giving her a raise and a small budget for the window displays.

Finally, after her ego was sufficiently bloated and a wide grin refused to leave her face, Andy bounced into the boutique. Her eyes widened when she saw the crowd waiting patiently to be rung up. Disregarding that it was her day off, Andy pulled off her coat and stuck it under the counter as she signed in on a register. "I can help you," she said brightly.

Thirty-five minutes later Andy let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall. "Has it been like that all day?" Andy asked as she looked toward Grace.

"Pretty much," she answered with a smile. "Your window magic has drawn the crowds here. I'm sure you can imagine just how excited Harold is. If we'd had any idea how talented you are at window displays, we would have had you doing it months ago."

Andy laughed. "Oh, well. I've had fun doing them. Thanks for letting me."

"Andy, you're a lifesaver!" Harold exclaimed as he approached the register. "Thanks for helping at the register. You can come in late tomorrow."

"But I'm opening," Andy said, confused.

"Right. Well, you can take a longer lunch, then." Harold smiled. "And, as promised, you're getting a raise and a window display budget." Andy clapped her hands together, not sure which excited her more. "Now get out of here before the lull ends and we chain you to the register," he joked.

Andy retrieved her check and was out the door in time to watch another flood of customers enter the shop. Shaking her head in wonder, Andy practically skipped away.

In two weeks, just before Halloween, she would change the displays again. She had a great idea in mind. And now that she had a budget, she was certain that she could produce something really eye-catching. Smiling widely, Andy knew that her life had taken a turn for the better. Screw Nate. Screw her fair-weather friends. And screw Miranda Priestly.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Emily," Miranda said just loudly enough to be heard. A moment later, Emily appeared in front of her desk. Looking up, Miranda noticed the walking cast adorning her senior assistant's leg. "Well, it's an improvement from those ridiculous crutches, I suppose."

Miranda stared back at the folder on her desk. Therein Nigel had placed information he had gathered about Lost Treasures. Not much. Not much at all. "Lost Treasures should be changing their display any day now. They do it once it is closed. After you deliver the Book to me, I want you to wait near the boutique to see who the window dresser is. I want to know what Andy Sachs looks like—approximate age, clothes, how he works, how many are helping him. Do you understand?"

Not appreciating the face full of questions, Miranda glared until Emily nodded compulsively. "Do not disappoint me. That's all." Emily hobbled away, much quicker now. Miranda nodded her approval.

It had been two weeks since the current display had been revealed. Miranda couldn't help but feel a thrill shoot through her as she wondered what Andy would create next. Standing next to the bank of windows, Miranda noticed the bright lights of the city illuminating the night sky.

She did not want to return home to an empty house. The girls were at a sleepover. Stephen had moved out. The only one waiting for her was her dog, Patricia.

Now there was an example of unconditional love and total acceptance. All she wanted was food, some attention, and a good rub behind the ears. And when Miranda sent her away to her pillow instead of yielding to the Saint Bernard's hopeful gaze to rub her tummy, she never complained. Instead, she sat with her head on her paws, keeping Miranda company for hours while she concentrated on her work. When Miranda finished late at night, Patricia eagerly padded after her with a happy sonorous bark, ready to stand guard in the hall outside her bedroom. No matter how many times Miranda ignored Patricia's pleading, conveyed through nutmeg-colored eyes, her faithful dog always greeted her excitedly. She never held expectations. She never maintained a grudge. She never acted with ulterior motives. She never failed to love.

As was her habit at the end of each day, Miranda directed Roy to drive south on Fifth so she could gaze at the small boutique's display. Since it was still open, the windows were illuminated. Several people peered at the depiction of _The Raven_, their faces reflecting interest. Miranda sighed as she leaned back against the leather interior of the town car.

It was so uncommon to find inspiration incarnate. Miranda became frustrated over her employees' lack of creativity, their inability to tap into that intangible _something_ which would stand out. This window designer was obviously inspired. In turn, Miranda felt inspired just by looking at the displays. She was reminded why she loved fashion so much—how fashion could tell stories, convey moods, and alter perceptions.

Miranda rarely became excited by designers nowadays. They took shortcuts, regurgitated old collections, utilized the same color combinations over and over. Where were the fresh ideas, the innovation, the art? Evidently, they were embodied in a window display designer at a little-known resale shop on Fifth. Miranda snorted delicately. How ironic.

No matter. She would approach this person, this Andy, and find out what inspired him. Perhaps, she could use that knowledge to spur her employees to create from the heart. And perhaps it would reignite the spark in her own heart.

* * *

><p>Three days later, Miranda strode from the elevator and handed over the Book to Emily as she began her litany of directives. As they passed the junior assistant's desk, Miranda flung her purse and coat in that general direction, not bothering to slow down. She rounded her desk, finishing her list, and eyed Emily speculatively. The redhead seemed exhausted. And her nose was red.<p>

With a roll of her eyes, Miranda said, "What did you find out?"

Emily blanched as she straightened her stance. "The window displays were changed last night. A—achooo!" Emily grabbed a tissue and blew her nose as Miranda looked down at the periodicals spread across the desk. "I'm sorry. I must have caught a small cold standing in the rain last night."

"Honestly, Emily, did I ask for your rationalizations for spreading germs all over my office?" Miranda snipped.

"Sorry. Um, I didn't see a man decorating the windows, though. Just some young woman in old jeans, a college sweatshirt, and a baseball cap," Emily said with disgust.

"How long did you observe?" Miranda was sure that Emily had not remained long enough to see Andy's arrival.

"All night. She set up a male mannequin staring at a picture of an old man in one window and the man running after a woman in the other window. She finished around four this morning."

Miranda glared. "You mean to tell me you watched some woman dress the windows all night all by herself?"

"Y-yes, Miranda." "No one else joined her?"

"No one." Emily shifted nervously while gripping her fingers tightly in front of her.

Miranda turned toward the windows as she dismissed Emily. "How odd," she mused. Maybe Andy did the designing only and then had an assistant dress the windows. Nigel had told her that they were the same person, but Miranda supposed it was possible that the shop had hired another person to help. Tapping her lips with a finger pensively, Miranda sighed. She had wanted to learn a bit more about the designer before approaching him directly. Well, the displays would have to do the talking for now.

"Emily. Coat. Bag." Miranda heard a small squeak as she walked toward the exit. She knew she had a meeting this morning, but it was more important to see the new displays. Emily could deal with the schedule. "I shall return in an hour. That's all," Miranda said as she swept out the door.

Miranda wondered, as she sat quietly in the backseat of the Mercedes, whether she was becoming obsessed with the window designer. She knew nothing about this man, and yet she felt drawn to his designs. Just seeing the dressed windows calmed her, transformed her day into a more manageable one.

Wasting no time once the car rolled up to the store, Miranda slowly approached the newly designed windows. She exhaled loudly as her eyes widened with surprise. He had done it again. They were fabulous. Captivating. Truly breathtaking. It did not escape her that Andy had not spent much money on props. It didn't matter. The clothes and accessories were showcased magnificently.

Not caring about the wind whipping her hair around, Miranda cocked her head as her eyes, protected from the wind and sun glare by her designer sunglasses, greedily captured every detail of the displays. She recognized the book immediately: _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. The textures—velvet, corduroy, wool—reflected darkness, weightiness, gravitas. An ornately framed picture of an older man sneering at the mannequin captured the feelings of a vain, heartless person. The window display designer had actually used another mannequin for the older man instead of a picture, an interesting technique. Both men wore expensive lounging clothes, a blood-red colored smoking jacket, caramel-colored silk shirt, and black slacks for the older man, and a casual midnight blue jacket, black silk shirt, and black pants for the younger man. Miranda hummed with appreciation. The Lucien Pellat Finet jackets were gorgeous, matching the Ralph Lauren trousers and Forzieri shirts could see that the "picture" was an older version of the younger man. He seemed sinister and cynical.

The second window showed an upset young woman running after the same young man. Their couture—she in a modest though stylish Juicy Couture evening dress and he in a fashionable Michael Kors suit—hinted at social inequity. He was obviously Dorian. She must be Sibyl, distraught by his rejection. The story would soon take a tragic turn for the young woman. How interesting that this presentation, like the last one, hinted at lost love.

People milled about, many trying to guess which classic these designs reflected. The picture frame gave it away, of course. How could they not recognize Dorian Gray? Didn't anyone pay attention in school anymore? Even her daughters would be able to guess which book these displays represented. In fact, they would be excited to hear that a new display was up. They would make a game of guessing which parts of the book these scenes reflected. A small smile graced Miranda's lips as she thought of them.

A gust of cold air brought her out of her musings. She gazed at the windows for several more minutes before entering the boutique. It did not look horrible. Small. Yes. A bit worn. Certainly. Yet, it held a certain charm. A man stood at the register ringing up sales while an older woman helped some customers at the back of the shop. Several people wandered around, chatting amiably as they looked at the offerings. With a quick glance Miranda recognized many of the major labels—Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, Valentino, Chloe, Lagerfeld. Miranda nodded. Sweeping her eyes around the store once more, she noticed a young woman entering the store, her eyes landing on Miranda. She seemed to freeze in place before surging forward.

"Do you need assistance?" she asked as she pulled off a knit cap and fluffed her bangs.

"Do you work here?" Miranda asked while studying her closely. _Was this the woman Emily had seen dressing the windows last night?_

"Yes. Well, it's my day off, but I'm glad to help you, if you need anything," she answered.

"Hmm, I—" the unwelcome intrusion of her cell phone ringing interrupted Miranda's intention to find out who the young woman was. "Yes?"

A problem with the shoot in a downtown art gallery was threatening to push back production. Unacceptable. "I'm going there now." She hung up and looked at the younger woman who waited patiently. "I will have to return another time." Miranda stared at the brunette a moment longer. Familiar. She seemed so familiar. "Hmm." Turning on her heel, she left, her mind turning to the latest potential disaster she needed to fix. Squaring her shoulders, Miranda decided she would not settle for anything less than perfection. If a window designer with a practically non-existent budget could reach it, so could _Runway._


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Swirls of blues and gold graced the canvas as Andy concentrated on creating the wild pool scene from _The Great Gatsby_ when the social elite had let loose with debauchery and wild partying. She had not had the time to plan ahead for the window presentations in the past, but with two weeks before the next change, Andy had decided to get a head start. It did not escape her notice that this classic, much like the other ones she had showcased, featured unrequited love, broken hearts, and betrayal. She wanted to change that, but she knew she would continue to gravitate toward similar themes if she did not allow herself time to grieve her own heartache. So, she allowed her emotions to choose the displays.

With the holidays fast approaching, though, she felt her spirits reviving. She would travel back to Ohio to spend time with her family. Her dad had sounded rather angry when Andy had told him about Nate's desertion. At first she had feared he was mad at her, but it had become clear as the conversation had continued that his ire was directed toward Nate. He had condemned Nate's unwillingness to stay with Andy while they tried to navigate their relationship. He had told her that it was natural for her to grow and change now that she was working everyday and just beginning to figure out what she wanted to do in her life. He had pointed out how Nate's actions signified that he still had a lot to learn.

She knew she still had quite a bit to learn, too. Being alone, really for the first time in her life, was scary. She had always been surrounded by family, friends, and love interests. Nate had been her first venture into a serious relationship, though, and she had felt like a failure when it had begun to fall apart. Her dad helped her to put it all into perspective.

Just as she needed to accept her partner unreservedly—those aspects that attracted her as well as the parts that she did not like as much—so her partner needed to accept her completely. Nate had tried to change her in ways she did not want and mostly to make himself feel better, not to help her in any way. That wasn't what she wanted in a relationship. Toward the end, she hadn't wanted to spend any time with him; she hadn't looked forward to seeing him or hearing his voice. Any love they had shared had left long before he had.

As she added a lighter blue to the mix, an electric gaze flashed through her memory. If only they hadn't been interrupted by that phone call! What was Miranda going to say? Of course, Andy supposed that people vied for the fashion maven's attention all the time. Andy could hardly believe that she had entered the store in the first place. This was the third time she had seen Miranda in front of the window displays, staring at them as if they were the most fascinating presentations she had ever seen. Andy shivered at the intense look in those sharp eyes she had seen directed toward the windows. She wondered how it would feel to be the focus of such attention for more than a few moments.

In a sense, she guessed she was. Well, her work was. It thrilled her.

She wondered whether she would ever have the opportunity to speak to her again. Miranda, the woman who ruled the fashion world with her creative insight, was an inspiration. Just being in her line of sight was both exhilarating and terrifying. And for a moment, Miranda had stood before her, conversed with her…perhaps she would come back as she had indicated before she had left the boutique. Time would tell.

One thing Andy knew for certain: Miranda did not remember interviewing her eleven months ago.

Hearing her cell phone ring, her eyebrows drew down in confusion. She didn't receive many calls nowadays. She'd spoken to her dad earlier, and she and her friends were still on a break, as far as she knew. So, that just left work.

Andy looked at the name flashing, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Hello?" Andy answered.

"Hi, Andy."

Andy swallowed loudly as she leaned back into the couch, unsure of what to say. "Um, hi, Lily." She waited to see what would happen next.

"Are you working tonight?" Andy looked at her drawings and shrugged.

"Not really. What's up?" Andy hedged. Lily sounded hesitant, nothing like she had sounded the last time they had spoken a month ago when Lily had all but accused Andy of driving Nate away by ignoring him. Andy had felt shocked and hurt. They'd been friends since elementary school, long before boys had become a topic of conversation. She was supposed to have Andy's back, no matter what.

"Doug and I are meeting for drinks at nine. How about if I pick you up at 8:30?" Lily said in a rush.

"Ah, um. Tonight?" Andy stalled. She missed them, of course she missed them, but she didn't know whether she was ready to see them. Would they heap on the guilt and accusations again? Andy knew she didn't want to hear it anymore. Nate was long gone. He hadn't contacted her once. At this point, she just wanted to get on with life, one without Nate in it.

"Andy, we miss you," Lily said in a soft voice. "Please?"

Well, that cinched it. "Okay. Sure. How fancy are we talking here? I'm just a lowly shop girl," Andy joked, relieved to hear Lily's chuckle.

"Just to Dempsey's, and the first round's on us. See you in a few."

"Okay. See you soon." Andy looked at her cell phone with a silly grin stretched across her face. Things were looking up. It was true that they had said some harsh words to her, but Lily wouldn't have called if she hadn't decided to make up and put it behind them. A few weeks ago, Andy might have told her to go to hell, but today people had praised her work, today Miranda Priestly had walked into Lost Treasures, and today, for a few precious moments, Miranda had focused solely on her.

Sighing happily Andy refocused on the canvas. It was coming along. Last night she had loved creating the newest window displays. She had found the ornate frame the week before at a Salvation Army store. Harold had praised her for finding such a piece while remaining within the small budget he had allocated for the window decorations.

While hanging it, she had listened to the wind howling and the rain hitting the windows. They were soothing in a way. Although Andy didn't particularly like walking through such weather, she could appreciate it while warm and dry inside the shop.

At one point Andy could have sworn she had seen a slender redhead standing under a thin store awning across the street while holding an umbrella. Not that the umbrella would have helped much; the wind was such that it blew the precipitation at a nearly horizontal angle. It was hard to see through the roaring rain, however. Why would anyone be hanging around in such weather, anyway? It didn't make sense. Andy shook her head. Her eyes must have deceived her. Soon she had become so involved with the displays that she had forgotten all about the strange observer, the weather, really anything other than the textures, the colors, and the evolving scene she had created over several hours.

Andy added a long row of pearls to one of the revelers before calling it a day. The painting would work well with the next display. Beginning the process of cleaning her painting tools, then herself, Andy grinned. She couldn't wait to see her friends. Lily worked at an art gallery downtown. She had actually piqued Andy's interest in painting by dragging her to a painting class one summer. Although a hack at best, Andy could convey at a very basic level what she wished. The painting would be good enough to reflect _The Great Gatsby_, helped along by the clothed mannequins. Lily would be able to appreciate the process of designing the window displays, even if she disagreed with Andy's tendency to ignore all other aspects of her life while creating them.

Although she wasn't looking forward to the conversation they would be sharing tonight, Andy knew how necessary it was. Lack of communication had been one of her failings with Nate. They had chosen to ignore the weaknesses in their relationship until it had become too late to repair the cracks in the foundation. By the time she and Nate had begun to argue, the cracks had become fissures, and they had not been able to get across them to each other. Andy was determined to communicate her feelings to her oldest friend, Lily. And Doug, too; he had hurt her by his choice to not contact her after Nate had left. She wanted to build stronger relationships with them, but they needed to realize she was going to make life choices differently than they would at times. They needed to be able to accept that, to accept her.

No matter what, Andy needed to be true to herself. She had begun that process by moving to New York against her father's wishes. Although nothing had happened the way she had anticipated, Andy couldn't really complain. She had learned so much! She knew she would not have been happy attending law school. As for writing—well, she still had aspirations. Maybe once she built up a reputation for the window display designs she could try her hand at writing about it. It was not the traditional route, but Andy was beginning to think outside the box.

This year Andy had surprised herself again and again. She had become more confident in her abilities, more willing to listen to her intuition, and more courageous while experiencing life. Although it pained her to admit it, Nate had become a bit boring to her. She had begun looking at life in new ways, and he hadn't wanted to experience it with her. She knew, though, that someone was waiting in the wings, someone who would see her potential, someone who would encourage her growth, her evolving perceptions, her art. Wherever she ended up, Andy was sure she would find that person who would hold her hand as they stepped boldly into the next adventure. Together. She just needed to be patient and continue walking her path. When the time was right, all would fall into place, and that special person would step up.

Glancing one more time at the painting, Andy felt excitement course through her. Today's reactions to _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ had been better than she had dared to hope. Andy worried that she might become too dependent on the attention and begin to change. Another good reason to reconcile with her friends: they would keep her humble. She didn't want to become someone who took compliments for granted. She had set high expectations for herself, and she would reach every goal she had set. However, in the end, she would still be Andy at the core, still the person who loved creating and wanted to reach others, to make a difference in some small way. She certainly wouldn't become like the people in the painting—numbed to life, caring only for the adrenalin rush that came with cavorting and extreme behavior, unhappy with all they had and wanting more. Andy would safeguard herself from such an immoral lifestyle. Even if she became well-known and wealthy, Andy was determined to remain thankful every day for her life, for all that she had.

* * *

><p>Returning from the restroom, Andy heard the store telephone ring. She hastened to answer it, knowing that neither Harold nor Grace could do so at the moment. Truly, if it remained as busy as it had been lately, they would have to hire some extra help. With the holidays just around the corner, Harold was convinced it would get even busier. He was quick to attribute the influx in business to Andy, much to her chagrin. She appreciated his praise, but really, she found it hard to believe that her actions had influenced the shop's healthy clientele to such an extent.<p>

"Lost Treasures. How may I help you?" Andy said into the receiver.

"Who can I talk to about the window display designer?" asked a woman with a British accent.

"You can talk to me, I guess. How can I help you?" Andy leaned against the edge of the desk as she looked around. The office was a mess, proof of just how busy they had been. Maybe she would clean up a bit before returning to the front of the store.

"Yes. Well. I am calling on behalf of Miranda Priestly at _Runway_. She wants to run a spread on your window designs for the January issue. We don't have much time so we need to schedule the shoot right away."

"Wait! What does that mean, a spread?" Andy asked, panicking a bit.

"That means an interview, photo shoot, and article," the woman said impatiently. "I'll send Sylvia down today to meet the window designer and take some preliminary shots of the store so we'll know what we are working with. Will Andy be available?"

"Wha—today? Um, yes. Sure. What time?" Andy stuttered.

"Two o'clock. Let's schedule the interview for Thursday," she continued. "Jake can go there to talk to Andy at…ten in the morning."

Andy heard the tell-tale clicking of the person typing. "Ten on Thursday. Okay."

"As for the photo shoot, well I suppose that depends on when the windows are being changed. Do you know?" she asked, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Um. Yeah. Yes. Monday night—a week from today."

"What will it be? I'll need to tell the photographer," the British woman asked.

"_The Great Gatsby_. I—"

"Right. I'll tell the photographer. Hopefully he'll be able to work with that. I still have to find out when he is available, but let's tentatively plan for next week."

"What—" Andy pulled the earpiece away from her and stared mutely. The woman had hung up. "Shit." Bewildered, Andy quickly found Harold to tell him what was happening.

"That's great, Andy! _Runway_, oh my God! Grace, we'll have to hire more help. Geez, do you know what this type of exposure will do for us, Andy? Just that little article they published this month has helped us." Harold ran a hand over his scalp as he turned back to Grace, excitedly continuing to chatter as Andy took in the shop with new eyes.

They didn't have much time. She began to straighten the racks, pulling out the better pieces to display more blatantly. It didn't help that they were still so busy. She constantly stopped to help customers. Looking up when she heard her name mentioned, Andy saw a slim blonde making her way toward her.

"You're Andy?" she asked.

"Yes." Andy picked up a blouse that had slipped off a hanger and placed it back as the older woman stuck out her hand and smiled.

"I'm Sylvia. I was sent to take some photos of the store, of you, and of the current displays as well as gather some information. Is now a good time?"

Andy shook the woman's hand and grinned. "Sure."

"You are awfully young. How old are you?" Sylvia asked as she stared at Andy.

Shifting nervously, Andy looked around before refocusing on Sylvia. "I'm twenty-four."

Sylvia nodded. "How long have you worked here?" she asked as she began to unpack her cameras.

"Nearly a year," Andy answered.

"And you're the window dresser?"

"Yes."

"Who designs the displays?" Sylvia asked while attaching the lens.

"I do that, too. We, it's just a small shop. A couple of months ago, the owners agreed to let me give it a try, so I decided to show some of the great classics. Every couple of weeks I change the displays. Next week I'm changing it to _The Great Gatsby_." Andy petered off at the incredulous look on the woman's face.

"Wait. You are the window designer and the window dresser? You create all the displays?"

"Y-yes. I, it's just me." Andy gave a little wave before realizing how dorky she looked. She swiftly lowered her hand and grasped it tightly with her other one behind her back. Sylvia's smile eased her nervousness, though, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Well. That's phenomenal, Andy! If you don't mind, I'll just wander about a bit and take some pictures, then I'll come find you. Okay?"

"Oh, sure. Of course. Go, go wander," Andy's eyes widened at the smirk on Sylvia's face. _Geez, I sound so stupid._ Nodding, Andy turned away and pretended to straighten some of the racks. Giving up, she approached the registers where Grace rang up a customer. Deciding to shrug off her unease, Andy smiled brightly to the next person in line and assisted her with her purchases.

About twenty minutes later, Andy looked up when she heard the tell-tale sound of a camera clicking. Sylvia took several pictures of Andy before lowering the camera. "Do you have a few minutes to talk to me about the displays?" Sylvia asked.

Andy noted the new tone of respect Sylvia's voice reflected. "Of course." Andy moved away from the registers and walked purposefully toward the window displays. "What do you want to know?" she asked as she reached the front of the store.

"I was wondering how long you will continue with the classic books theme?" Sylvia asked as she they stepped into the window space.

"Oh, at least into the new year. There are so many books to choose from, you know? And I already have some more in mind. Then, we'll see." Andy tilted the corner of the frame slightly before gazing around to make sure everything was positioned properly.

Sylvia took several pictures of the window displays, including a few with Andy in them before packing up her equipment. "Well, when you are interviewed you'll be asked much more in-depth questions. My job is to give them a framework, so to speak. It was great meeting you, Andy." They shook hands once more, and Sylvia left.

Releasing a breath, Andy grinned. That hadn't been so bad. Surely the interview would be relatively painless, too. Hopefully, the added exposure would boost sales, and Andy could continue to focus on creating displays that touched others' hearts.

With a spring in her step, Andy viewed the boutique with new eyes as she crossed to the registers. She felt as if she was entering a new period in her life. It excited her. Who knew what would happen next? She certainly had not foreseen all this publicity for her little designs! Feeling gratitude flow through her, she smiled fully at an older gentleman as she took the clothes he held. _Runway_. Miranda Priestly. Lost Treasures. January issue. Wow!


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Nigel swept into Miranda's office, a folder nestled under his arm. "Good morning, Miranda. I have the results of the photo shoot. You are going to love them. Andy is extremely photogenic. And the new display, did you see it yet? Marvelous."

Quirking an eyebrow in amusement, Miranda took the folder and opened it, spreading the pictures over her desk. Her eyes lit up as she gazed at the photos of the new window designs. One of the female mannequins was dressed in an Oscar de la Renta silver fringe dress that stopped mid-thigh. A matching wrap and headband completed the look. A male was dressed in a smart black Burberry tuxedo with white bowtie and elegant cane in his hand. Behind them a large painting of revelers near and in a pool gave context to the scene.

The other display reflected casual wear. The woman wore a layered, translucent, cream-colored lace Valentino dress with a Hermes scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and a large, off-the-face floppy hat over dark hair. The ensemble was complemented by a long string of white pearls and dangling earrings. The man wore a sand-colored, single-breasted, two-button signoria lightweight suit by Gucci with a pale-blue, pin-striped shirt and gold tie. A plaid beanie hat sat jauntily on his blonde locks. Miranda smiled. "These are quite good." High praise. She rarely gave it, but the displays were wonderful. The photographer, an up-and-comer much like Andy, had captured the essence of the displays, illuminating them in such a way as to emphasize the clothes.

Staring at the painting in the background, Miranda tilted her head. It was also quite good. The painter had reflected equal parts giddiness and desperation in the revelers' facial expressions. "Who is the painter?" Miranda questioned while pointing at the photo.

Nigel looked down and shrugged. "I don't know. I don't remember reading about it in the interview or in the write-up, either," he added as he reached for the folder and withdrew the documents.

"Hmm. Did you meet Andy?" she asked as she continued to study the photos.

"Yes. We really hit it off. In fact, we're meeting for drinks tonight. She has such interesting ideas—"

"She?" Miranda interjected as she looked up quickly. For a moment she had assumed Nigel was romantically interested in Andy, but if Andy was a woman…

"Yes. Oh. Andy is short for Andrea. This is her." Nigel reached across and pulled a picture off the desk, handing it to her.

Studying the picture, Miranda gasped. "She's just a baby!"

Nigel laughed. "With those curves, she's no baby." The humor apparent in his eyes caused Miranda's lips to curl with amusement. "She attended Northwestern and earned a degree in English with a minor in Journalism. She was accepted to Stanford Law School but chose to move here to pursue her dream of writing. After several months, she gave up trying to get a job at a newspaper and began working at Lost Treasures."

"And the window display designs? Where does that come into play?" Miranda asked as she studied more of the photos containing Andrea.

"She grew up with an appreciation for fashion, thanks to her mother. While in college, a friend convinced her to join stage crew. She learned set design there and fell in love with the creative aspects of it. After working for the boutique for about nine months, Andy began to pester the owners about letting her decorate the windows. And the rest is history." Nigel waved his hands with a flourish.

"So, drinks. Are we—experimenting, Nigel?" Miranda asked lightly. When no answer was forthcoming, she looked up with a quirked eyebrow.

"I don't know. Are we, Miranda?" Nigel drawled as he waggled his eyebrows and smirked.

Feeling heat suffuse her face, Miranda scowled. "Don't be absurd. Until a few moments ago, I thought she was a he." Miranda tapped at one of the photographs, deciding she would use it for the first page of the piece.

"Miranda." She looked at Nigel, caught by the gentle tone of voice and earnestness in his expression. "You've been captivated by Andy's work ever since she came on the scene a couple of months ago. And after spending the last few days with her, I can tell you that she's something special. You two should meet."

Pensively, Miranda tapped at her chin. Nigel was one of the few people who knew she was attracted to women. She was attracted to men, too. Certainly, she had not married twice to serve as her beard. No, she had loved both men. And others. Yet, she could not deny that she had found herself drawn to some women over the years. Miranda chose not to think about her proclivities too much. When the pull was present, she chose whether or not to pursue those feelings. Just because Andrea was a woman, well, that did not have to be a stumbling block. Not if the attraction was mutual.

"Yes. We should. Invite her to the Winter Ball. Send her the Armani Privé gown with the matching Blahniks on the pretext of thanking her for agreeing to the interview. After all, she set up the location for the shoot." Staring at the photo of the young designer, Miranda pursed her lips slightly. "I've met her before. I entered the boutique a few weeks ago, and she offered to assist me. I was called away to that disastrous Chanel shoot before she gave me her name. She seemed familiar to me even then, though. Hmm."

"Well, I don't believe she's been in the business long. I could find out…" Nigel offered.

"No, no. Bring her to me at the ball. I will speak with her then. That's all." Miranda waved a hand negligently while continuing to stare at the pictures of the beautiful brunette. Yes, she would get to know this woman. If nothing else, Miranda would determine what it was about this window designer that caused her heart to race each time she saw one of her presentations.

Suddenly needing to see it for herself, Miranda called out softly, "Coat. Bag." Striding toward the exit, she grabbed her belongings without pause. She would see the displays up close before succumbing to several more hours of tedious decisions, decisions only she could make. She needed to feel rejuvenated. Andrea's creativity would surely do the trick.

* * *

><p>Andy walked up the subway steps onto the street, pulling her collar closer as a blast of wind chased its way down her spine. Her eyes lit up moments later when she saw the Ritz-Carlton. People in evening wear streamed through the entrance of the famous hotel. She still couldn't believe that she was attending an event at such a luxurious locale.<p>

As she walked past the paparazzi, she tried not to blink too much in response to the camera flashes. _Why are they taking pictures of me? I'm a nobody._ Regardless, Andy tried to keep a smile fixed on her face.

"Andy!"

Looking around, Andy saw Nigel's bright smile as he indicated for her to join him. He was being interviewed by NY1 News. Extending his hand he exclaimed, "You look wonderful, darling." Turning back to the reporter, he continued, "This is Andy Sachs, the window designer for Lost Treasures. We are featuring her in our all-important January issue. She's a rising star, this one."

"Oh, Nigel," Andy said, embarrassed.

The reporter looked at her with interest, asking several questions about the boutique before Nigel smoothly interrupted. "Well, we don't want to give away all her secrets. Then, who would need to read _Runway_?" he chuckled. Andy giggled obligingly. With a bright smile on her lips, Andy allowed Nigel to lead her away. "You did well, Andy. Miranda will be pleased."

"Is she here?" Andy asked, suddenly very nervous as she glanced around. They entered the main hall, weaving through the crowded room.

"Not yet. She likes to make a grand entrance. She'll come down that staircase," Nigel said as he pointed across the hall to a set of sweeping, circular marble stairs. "Let's get some bubbly in the meantime."

Clutching the crystal tightly, Andy chattered politely with each person Nigel introduced. As time passed, she relaxed. This wasn't so bad. It was just like any other party, only the people were better dressed. And more famous. And more wealthy. And more important. Taking a sip of the champagne, Andy stiffened as she felt the air change. Looking around for the reason why, she noticed how everyone turned toward the staircase with a sense of expectation.

"Here comes the Queen of Fashion," Nigel announced softly.

She did not disappoint. Miranda's bearing alone broadcasted her importance—the regal tilt of her head, the flawless, alabaster skin, the sway of her hips and the gleam in her sharp eyes. Andy was captivated. She watched as Miranda took her time descending the wide staircase, her sharp eyes sweeping over the mass of admirers. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, Miranda glided toward the center of the room, two young women trailing behind her.

Andy let out a gush of air. She hadn't even realized that she'd been holding it.

"She has that effect on people," Nigel chuckled. Andy smiled ruefully. "Well, I should go check in with her. I'll catch up with you in a little bit."

Andy nodded, her eyes still attached to the elegant woman. Soon, though, she was drawn into another conversation. Time passed as she met several more people. They seemed genuinely interested in talking to her. It was a surreal experience for Andy. She was surrounded by people who loved fashion, loved the materials that were used to create the wonderful gowns and suits worn by the elite. Andy felt stimulated. She wanted to rush back home to sketch some of the ideas flowing through her mind. That gown there reminded her of the ballroom scene in _My Fair Lady_, while his tuxedo's distinguished cut whispered _Jane Eyre_ into Andy's ear. Andy thrived on the energy buzzing throughout the ballroom; it made her feel more alive than she had ever experienced.

"Andy, you look like you are enjoying yourself," Nigel said as he handed her a new glass of champagne.

"Oh, I am, Nigel! This is wonderful. Thank you so much for inviting me." Andy's eyes jumped around feverishly as more ideas filtered through her mind.

"It wasn't my idea, Andy. Miranda invited you. And she wants to meet you."

"Now?" Andy squeaked. She wasn't ready. What would she say? How would she act? What if Miranda dismissed her the way she had last year during the shortest interview on Earth? "Do you think that's such a good idea? She seems awfully busy," Andy hedged. Nigel's laugh put to rest her hopes of admiring the older woman from afar.

"Don't be silly. Come on," Nigel placed his hand on her elbow and guided her toward the middle of the room where Miranda stood majestically. "Calm down, Andy. It will be fine," he whispered as they approached the editor.

Before Andy could prepare, piercing blue eyes focused on her, and the noise of the crowd dimmed. Andy clasped her hands together tightly as she smiled a bit timidly. Andy heard a gasp from a redhead standing behind Miranda, but she was mesmerized by the look in the iconic editor's eyes. She felt as if Miranda was studying her. Her eyes slowly raked down Andy's body before rising once more to capture Andy's widened eyes. Andy blinked quickly several times as a ball of heat settled low in her stomach.

"Miranda, please let me introduce you to Andy Sachs, the window display designer at Lost Treasures," Nigel said with a formal air.

Andy watched with a sense of disbelief as Miranda leaned forward, her hands reaching for Andy's forearms as she air-kissed both sides of her face. Andy smelled the heady scent of Miranda's distinctive perfume as her eyelids fluttered. Then, the moment was over and Miranda was speaking.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Andrea. I trust you are enjoying yourself tonight?" Miranda said.

"Oh, yes. This is wonderful. I have met so many people who love colors and textures like I do—I had no idea. Thank you for inviting me. And for this gown," Andy added as she indicated the red sheath encasing her curves.

"It was made for you," Miranda pronounced as her eyes once more burned every inch of Andy's body. "I was about to leave. Would you care to join me for a nightcap?"

"Yes. I'd love to," Andy answered quickly. Miranda turned and dismissed her assistants before whispering to Nigel.

He smirked before turning to kiss Andy's cheek. "Drinks on Thursday?" he asked.

"That sounds great, Nigel," Andy said.

"I'll text you the details." Leaning closer, Nigel whispered, "Don't let her scare you, Andy. Just be yourself. Good luck." After those cryptic words, he left without a backward glance.

"Shall we?" Miranda drawled. Without waiting for an answer, she moved toward the staircase. Andy followed docilely, enthralled by the way Miranda moved, her defined back muscles, and her fabulous backside. Andy reminded herself not to appear too obvious; she was quite sure Miranda would not appreciate being ogled so blatantly in such a crowded room. Once they reached the top of the staircase, Miranda walked through a set of doors and toward the elevator banks.

Miranda entered the elevator and eyed Andy briefly as they stood next to each other. Andy was undeniably nervous. It was silly, really. It wasn't like Miranda had propositioned her. It wasn't as if she was returning to Miranda's hotel suite to enjoy some mad, passionate sex. This was just a nightcap, a chance to talk. Normal. Innocent.

Disappointingly so.

Andy gazed around the presidential suite in awe while trying not to appear so impressed. She didn't want Miranda to think she was simply some small town girl who'd never seen a nice room before. It was just, well, she'd never seen such an opulent hotel room before. She walked over to the sofa without tripping and sat on the edge, legs together, hands to her sides, back straight.

A glass of champagne was offered to her without a word. "Thank you," Andy said meekly. She watched as Miranda settled herself across from Andy on the sofa, a decorous amount of space between them.

"You seem familiar to me. Have we met before?" Miranda began.

"Oh, uh, we met at the boutique," Andy tried. She saw Miranda wave at her as if to swat away the suggestion.

"I realize that, but I felt even then that I knew you," Miranda said, a dissatisfied look on her face.

"Well, I did see you outside the store a few times. Maybe you recognized me from that?" Andy asked. She really didn't want to have to admit that she had interviewed for the assistant position. It was embarrassing.

"No, no. Somewhere else." Miranda trained her eyes on Andy and demanded, "Where?"

Not able to sidestep the question any longer, Andy sighed. "At your office. You interviewed me for an assistant position last year." Andy looked away as she ran a finger over the rim of her glass distractedly. This was horrible! Miranda didn't remember her because she had looked terrible and had bombed during the interview.

"_I_ interviewed you?" Miranda asked. Andy glanced back at the editor, noting her surprise. She nodded.

"It was really quick."

"I wonder why I didn't hire you," Miranda mused. She tilted her head. "You wear couture well, and you obviously have talent and drive."

"Not that day. I didn't dress well for our meeting, and I didn't tell you about my skills. I just handed you a resumé and admitted that I had no idea who you were. I don't think I impressed you very much," Andy chuckled bitterly.

"Still, I usually have good instincts." Miranda drank the remainder of her champagne before getting up to refill it. She brought the bottle over and topped off Andy's drink.

"Thank you," Andy murmured. "It all worked out, though. I mean, I would have missed the opportunity to design the boutique's windows."

"Hmmm, true." Miranda looked at Andy probingly. "How is it that you are designing window displays at a small boutique instead of at a large department store?" Miranda asked as she sipped from her glass.

"Oh, well, Harold and Grace were nice enough to allow me to play, and people seem to like it. I'm just so grateful that I get to express myself in this way."

"You do understand that you will soon be fielding offers for employment from places such as Saks and Macy's, don't you?" Miranda asked as she gazed at Andy.

Shaking her head at the preposterous idea, Andy said, "Oh, I doubt it. We're just a small shop. I'm surprised it's gotten as much notice as it has. Actually, I have you to thank. I really appreciate the shop being mentioned in _Runway_ and now the article for January's issue." Andy shook her head again. "It's incredible."

"You can do quite well for yourself. The larger stores will provide you with a better salary and more visibility. With your talent, you could rise to the top quickly. Or, you could branch out into a neighboring industry. You could design sets at theaters, fashion shows, photo shoots. Or," Miranda paused and shot an intent look Andy's way, "you could come work in the art department at _Runway,_" Miranda said, as if offering employment was of no consequence.

"Oh, I couldn't leave Lost Treasures. Their business has just picked up. I couldn't do that to them. Plus, I have the ability to do whatever I want there. I doubt I would have such autonomy anywhere else. They've been so good to me. Leaving them would be like betraying them just to get ahead." Andy felt guilty even thinking about taking a job somewhere else. She knew she didn't get the best salary, but she was able to pay her bills. It was enough.

"Andrea, don't be naïve. They expect you to leave. Talent like yours is not meant to stagnate in a little resale store." Her gaze pinned Andy to her seat. "Come work for me. I can guarantee that you will learn much more. We can mold you, train you. Or go somewhere else. Just go somewhere."

"But Harold and Grace—they're my friends. I won't turn my back on them." Andy thought of Nate and Lily and Doug. Andy was pretty much alone now. Although she had met with Lily and Doug last week for drinks, it would take time to rebuild those relationships. And if she left Lost Treasures, she'd have no one around her who cared about her.

"Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. They aren't your friends. They are your employers—people who are nice and amiable until you do something they do not like. Do not mistake affection for pleasantness. Your loyalty is sweet but misguided."

"They like me!" Andy sputtered. "They care about me. You're wrong." Andy felt her heart starting to pound. She was becoming really upset.

"Like you? Please. Andrea, they don't know anything about you—your family, your friends, your education, your hometown. They knew nothing when we made inquiries because they don't care. You need to look out for your own interests. It is clear they are only looking out for theirs."

Andy stood up. She had to leave. She didn't want to hear anymore. "I have to go. Thank you for the nightcap." Andy placed the glass down on a side table, her hand shaking. "Good night." Andy hurried to the door.

"Andrea," Miranda said.

"Bye." Andy gave a little wave and left. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes. She hated what Miranda had said. How could she really believe that? Surely she had employees she cared about. Andy had the feeling that Miranda wasn't very nice to them, though, at least not at work. It was all so confusing. She shook her head.

It was late, and she'd had too much champagne. She'd think about all this tomorrow. Tonight she just wanted to go home and get lost in the memories of the gala without the painful words Miranda had said intruding. But first, she wanted to go by the boutique. It would calm her, remind her of what she had accomplished and how she was making a difference. She wouldn't allow Miranda's words to influence her. The editor was obviously willing to say anything to convince Andy to work for her. Although…she had urged her to work at a department store if she preferred or to branch out into a neighboring industry. Andy's thoughts stalled as she stared ahead blankly. Blinking rapidly, she realized that the subway was pulling in to her stop.

Slowly, Andy walked up the staircase, her mind swirling with confusion. She continued walking east to the boutique and let herself in, not bothering to put the lights on. She just locked the door and stumbled to the window displays. Off to one side of one of the displays was a plush couch with some props laid haphazardly on it. Andy cleared it off and lay down heavily. She felt exhaustion overtake her as she placed the back of her hand over her eyes.

What a night. These designs coincided perfectly with the ambiance of the event Andy had just left—the rich, the famous, the elite, all schmoozing and pretending that they were happy when nothing could be further from the truth. They were on display, looking around to make sure others were watching them as they smiled and laughed and struck poses meant to impress everyone. Of course, no one noticed since they were all too busy acting the same way.

Andy just didn't get it. Miranda had indicated that Andy should want that, too. But, Miranda was missing the point entirely. Andy wanted to create, to touch hearts and souls—she didn't care about becoming famous and earning a better salary. Sure, she liked money, but Andy didn't want to accept a job offer just for that. It wasn't a good enough reason to desert her friends. And no matter what Miranda said, Harold and Grace were her friends. They did care. They did. If they didn't know much about Andy's background, that was due to Andy's reticence to share the intimate details of her life, not their lack of questions. Just because Andy did not truly remember them ever asking her about herself…

Looking around the display, Andy wondered whether some of the elite were able to have money and power without losing their souls. According to _The Great Gatsby_, the answer was no. Had Miranda lost her soul? Is that why she didn't care about her colleagues? From all Andy had heard about Miranda, she was the Devil in Heels…respected in the industry. And feared. No one wanted to cross her. Maybe she hadn't cultivated friendships, believing it easier to retain her power and reputation for excellence by not sharing herself.

_I'm not like that. I could never be like that. _Sighing, Andy rubbed her throbbing head. Maybe she shouldn't have drunk so much champagne. Alcohol always made her philosophical. Once she had followed her sister around the house trying to discuss one's existence on Earth. Her sister never let her forget that night. Unfortunately, Andy had not been able to remember the secrets of the Universe the next day and had suffered a brutal hangover instead. Andy fervently hoped she would not have a hangover tomorrow. However, she would not feel the loss too keenly if she forgot the unsettling conversation she had shared with Miranda.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Early the next morning, Miranda stepped out of the Mercedes after directing Roy to wait. She approached Lost Treasures, her eyes fastened to the window display. It was early, too early for the resale shop to be open. A small crowd stood close to the store, several pointing and cocking their heads. Miranda searched for the subject of their interest, understanding that they were not merely appreciating the reflection of two scenes from _The Great Gatsby_.

Expelling a breath in surprise, Miranda walked closer to the boutique. Andrea was sprawled across a sofa in the window display, asleep. Thanks to her formal wear and upswept hairdo, she seemed to fit into the scene of debauchery perfectly. Miranda listened to the people nearest to her position as they speculated as to whether Andrea was an extremely lifelike mannequin or a real person. They concluded she couldn't be a real person since no one would become part of a display for hours. _They must be visitors_, Miranda mused.

Obviously, Andrea needed to be awakened. Miranda walked back to the car and summoned Roy. "Bang on the window to rouse the girl from her nap," Miranda said. She watched as he knocked on the window several times. Andrea stirred, stretching like a cat before opening her eyes. When she did deign to look around, she sat up straight, shocked to find herself a part of the display. She stood up quickly and smoothed down her dress self-consciously, her eyes sweeping across the gathered individuals.

When Andrea's eyes connected with hers, Miranda felt her breath catch. There was such an unfocused, hazy look about her, an unsullied sensuality that called to Miranda. Seeing her so unguarded, so soft and vulnerable, was extremely compelling. Miranda wanted to pull the young woman into her arms, but she was unsure whether her desire stemmed from wanting to protect her or kiss her. She acknowledged that it was probably both. After a few moments of silent contemplation, Miranda indicated with a sharp jerk of her head that Andrea should open the door.

"Mir-Miranda! What are you doing here?" Andrea asked.

"Preventing you from making a fool out of yourself any longer, so it would seem. Really, Andrea, sleeping in the display?" Miranda rolled her eyes. "I will give you a ride home."

"Wha—no, Miranda. That's not necessary." Andrea lowered her face and looked up at Miranda through lowered lashes. Miranda felt as if she had just been punched in the stomach. She pressed her lips together, angered by her inability to control her libidinous reactions.

"No, no. That wasn't a question," Miranda said firmly as she waved a finger from side to side. "Stop wasting my time. Let's go." She turned away and strode to the car, knowing Andrea would follow her.

After a few minutes of tense silence while Miranda alternately cursed herself and Andrea for this undeniable attraction, she made a decision. "I wish to purchase the painting that is part of the present display."

"Oh, Miranda. That's really kind of you, but I just painted it to help people recognize the book." Andrea shook her head. "Don't waste your money."

Miranda tilted her head. "You painted it?" She watched Andrea blush and look away.

"Yes. I needed something to tie the scene together. So you see, it's not worth anything." Andrea shrugged self-consciously.

Miranda tried to control herself from staring at the younger woman incredulously. It was a struggle, even after years of keeping tight control over her emotions. Did Andrea really believe she couldn't paint? What an odd creature. And why would she refuse payment? "Not worth anything? Are you saying that I have no taste?" Miranda asked slowly. She nearly smiled as a look of panic flitted across Andrea's face.

"Of course not! Everyone knows that it is your ability to recognize beauty that drives the fashion industry."

"Quite right. I believe that your painting is very good. I take it you have never sold your work before." Miranda waited for Andrea to shake her head. "And I suppose you have no formal training for such a medium, as you do not for window display designs?" Andrea confirmed Miranda's educated guess with more shakes of the head. Miranda was astounded by the raw talent Andrea possessed. To be able to guide her, mold her, develop her skills—Miranda felt dizzy with the potential Andrea had not yet tapped. Miranda nodded once. "How much do you want for it?"

"I don't want your money, Miranda. If you really want it, I'll gift it to you once I change the current display," Andrea said.

"That's absurd. If you'd rather, I will have an art dealer come to the store to determine a fair price." Miranda huffed in frustration.

"No. Perhaps for future works, but I will give you this one," Andrea said resolutely. Miranda stared at the younger woman, noting her chin jutted out defiantly, her body held stiffly, and her eyes shining brightly.

Miranda decided not to push the issue. She would find a different way to recompense Andrea. She found it rather intriguing how Andrea did not cave in to her demands. Very intriguing.

"As you wish, Andrea. I do want it, but if the only way you will deliver it is by gifting it to me, that is your choice. However, perhaps you might think about why you are so quick to deny your talents and dismiss the accolades you so obviously deserve." Seeing they had arrived at Andrea's apartment, Miranda said, "Does that little shop allow you to leave for lunch?"

"Um, yes?" Andrea replied. Miranda nearly smirked at her obvious confusion.

"I will pick you up on Wednesday. My assistant shall contact you with the details." Miranda turned her gaze out the window. "That's all." She did not look as Andrea exited the car, but she watched Andrea hurry up the stairs, where she fumbled with her keys briefly before entering the building. Miranda chuckled, feeling more alive than she had in a long time. Hearing a polite clearing of a throat, she glared at Roy through the rearview mirror. "Go!"

* * *

><p>Andy wandered around her apartment aimlessly. She was too perplexed to settle down. She really needed some sleep. For the last four days, thoughts of Miranda had intruded on her peace of mind. Every time she lay in her bed and closed her eyes, images of Miranda interrupted her rest. Andy had so many questions when it came to the enigmatic woman, but the most prominent question, the one that kept echoing in Andy's mind, was why had Miranda shown up at the boutique the morning after the gala, after Andy had left her so abruptly?<p>

She had felt like a fool, awakening to a crowd of curious, amused faces. Andy groaned. It was all so embarrassing!

Nonetheless, Miranda had given her a ride home and extended an invitation to lunch. For tomorrow. Today. Andy ran a hand through her messy hair. Less than twelve hours. Why?

When Andy had interviewed for the junior assistant's position last year, Miranda had made an indelible impression. During those two minutes, Andy had realized just how ill-prepared she had been to enter the workforce. Her dreams of making a difference had seemed naïve and unformed. How could she expect anyone to take her seriously if she could not advocate for herself? No one was going to just give her a chance. She had to create her future.

With that knowledge, Andy had processed how poorly she had dressed for a job interview at a fashion magazine. What gall, what impertinence, what arrogance.

Miranda had changed Andy's life course in a matter of moments. She had grown-up and realized that, for whatever reason, it was not the right time for her to become a journalist. Accepting that indisputable fact, Andy had fallen back on her love for color and design. Over time, Andy had allowed her original dream to write to fade into the recesses of her mind, that dumping ground for other dreams she had had to let go.

Perhaps it was time to recall her aspirations and to start writing again. At the very least, she could write about window displays. Of course, she still had no connections, no way to gain a periodical's willingness to read anything she might write. It didn't matter. She was a long way from writing anything that might be worthy of publication. Andy just needed to begin the process. Once she felt she was creating something worthwhile, well, then she'd figure out how to get published.

Although Andy had determined why their paths had intersected last year, she was at a loss to explain why Miranda wanted to spend time with her now. Andy was convinced that nothing happened by accident. She knew she had attracted the dynamic woman back into her life for some reason.

Miranda, who influenced the fashion world, the publishing world, and many of the movers and shakers in New York, Paris, and London, found Andy worth her time. It didn't make sense.

Lying back down, Andy closed her eyes. Immediately she visualized Miranda's impenetrable blue eyes staring at her, a small smile on her face. Andy sighed and gave in. She focused on Miranda's face, her elegantly coifed hair, her cheekbones, and her swanlike neck. Miranda was gorgeous. Mysterious. Powerful. Andy had recognized all these attributes upon their first meeting, even though she'd had no idea that Miranda was the editor-in-chief for _Runway_. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, even the way she tilted her distinguished head let others know, even those as obtuse as Andy, that she was someone important.

If only she weren't so ruthless. Andy had no doubt that Miranda hadn't meant to hurt her feelings when she had declared that Harold and Grace were Andy's employers, not her friends. Obviously, Miranda had been applying her own work experience to Andy's situation. It gave Andy the insight that Miranda was not friends with any of her subordinates.

How lonely.

From what Andy knew, Miranda worked long hours, tirelessly striving to keep _Runway_ at the top of the fashion industry. With whom did she share her triumphs? When did she relax? Did she ever laugh or joke? Miranda was in the middle of an acrimonious divorce—was that due to Miranda's unwillingness to slow down, to share, to prioritize her significant other before her job? Was Miranda even happy?

Andy certainly didn't want to end up like that! What was the point of being successful if she had no one next to her? Who would celebrate her triumphs with her? Who would support her when her spirits flagged? Who would let her know when she was too wrapped up in her work to enjoy life? What was the use of being so successful if she didn't have time to enjoy it? Not that she had a certain someone with whom she could share her current or future successes. And there was the prickly point that Nate had left her because she had been so wrapped up in her work. But that would change as she became more established, Andy was sure.

Andy had to admit it was true that she was happiest when creating. Was that how Miranda felt when she was piecing together the next _Runway_ issue?

All these thoughts swirled through her mind in a ceaseless loop. Even though Andy thought she had Miranda figured out, the pieces just didn't seem to fit. If she believed the conclusions she had reached, Miranda would not waste her precious time on a nobody like her. Andy had no answers to her questions and no idea how to proceed. She got the impression that Miranda had some motive impelling her to spend time with Andy. She supposed she would find out at lunch. No doubt everything would be made as clear as mud. She snorted into her pillow, amused.

Nigel had told Andy to not let Miranda scare her. He seemed to know Miranda well. If that was his advice, maybe Andy needed to give Miranda the benefit of the doubt. Miranda was fierce and scary, but it was possible that she was different outside of work. That just left one question: did Miranda consider Andy work? Was she merely attempting to shape Andy, to woo her to _Runway_?

If that was her plan, Miranda was destined to fail. She loved working at Lost Treasures. They allowed her to decorate the windows in any way she wished. She did not have to receive permission for her designs. They trusted her, believed in her, liked her. She had a great relationship with Harold and Grace. If they did not talk outside of the store—well, that meant nothing. They were all extremely busy. Miranda just didn't understand because she chose to treat her employees as dispensable, nameless bodies. Another reason why Andy could never work for her.

Nodding her head definitively, Andy made her decision. She would go to lunch with Miranda, but she would make it clear that she had no intention of leaving the boutique. Miranda would simply have to honor her choice.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Miranda swept into her office, not deigning to slow down as she flung her coat and purse at her hapless second assistant and began dictating demands. While the Emily want-to-be took care of Miranda's belongings, Emily obsequiously followed her into her inner sanctum, writing down every command as she stood in front of Miranda's desk. Stifling a sigh, Miranda ended the long list with her usual closing: "That's all." She didn't bother to watch her senior assistant scurry out of the room as fast as she could while wearing a walking cast, instead preferring to turn her chair toward the bank of windows.

Lunch had been a disaster.

Apparently, Andrea had a stubborn streak a mile long. She had tried Miranda's patience to no end. Instead of jumping at the opportunity to work for _Runway_, Andrea had politely but firmly rebuffed the offer of a lifetime to continue working at that little resale shop. She didn't seem to care that her career would skyrocket once she left the small boutique. As she had phrased it, she would not leave her "friends."

Miranda shook her head. Andrea was so naïve, it was comical. Her loyalty was admirable but certainly misplaced. In some ways, Miranda found the younger woman refreshing. No subterfuge, no artifice—Andrea's words and behavior were as clear as her bottomless brown eyes. Rather than taking no for an answer, Miranda had urged Andrea to consider her future. Next week she would arrange for another luncheon.

It was possible that she was approaching this the wrong way. Obviously, Andrea's decisions were ruled by her heart. Tapping a manicured finger on her crossed knee, Miranda contemplated whether she should try to get to know the younger woman better. Normally, she would keep such meetings focused purely on business. It was clear, however, that her normal way of operating would not work. Andrea was unique. Refreshing. Truly incomparable. The old rules would not work. If she wanted to help Andrea, she would have to create a connection, one that transcended the workplace.

Smiling slightly, Miranda realized that she wanted to find out more about Andrea. To spend more time with her. She could clothe it any way she liked, but Miranda had to admit, at least to herself, that this was not just business. It was personal. To everyone else, it would seem as if she were nurturing another business relationship. It was more, though. Unlike all those she had guided over the years, knowing they would remain loyal to her for her efforts, Miranda knew she would receive much more through any interactions with Andrea. Already, she could feel the excitement, the spark, the flow of creativeness transforming her perspective and elevating her mood. Spending time with Andrea would certainly provide her with no hardship. Feeling better, Miranda turned her chair back toward her desk just as Nigel swept in.

"Here's the latest for the February issue. I thought the Testino photos came out extremely well. He did an excellent job of slimming down Kate Winslet's form so that we don't have to alter the pictures." Nigel handed over the folder as he rounded the corner of the desk to view the prints with Miranda. They stared at the folder's contents for several minutes before he said casually, "How was your lunch?"

Miranda flicked her eyes at Nigel suspiciously. He stood looking at Testino's photos as if he had just inquired about the weather, an innocent look on his face. She knew better.

"Not as successful as I had hoped," Miranda sighed.

"No?" Nigel said mildly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Miranda agreed, her voice flat. "For such an intelligent, creative woman, she is quite the innocent when it comes to the business world. No doubt her heart will be broken when she realizes that people do not care about her, just what she can do for them."

"I care about her. I find her charming and quite remarkable. And, I think you feel the same way." Nigel stared her in the eyes, challenging her to deny what he had said. Miranda pursed her lips, not happy that he could read her so well.

"If no one watches out for her, her talents will be wasted and that spark will be extinguished. When is the last time we found someone with such raw talent? Yet, she refuses to consider coming to _Runway_ or joining one of the larger department stores. It's ridiculous. She is ridiculous," Miranda said as she pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. When she looked up, she noted the speculative look in Nigel's eyes. "What?"

"Why not invite her here to see the inner workings of _Runway_? It may be that she has no idea what we do. If she sees the grander scale, the endless supply of clothes at her disposal, the way a photo shoot is prepared and executed, and La Priestly in her element, then she might change her mind," Nigel offered.

"Hmm." Miranda couldn't find fault with his suggestion. She suspected Andrea had no idea what Miranda was offering her. She couldn't help but feel as if she had missed a golden opportunity by dismissing Andrea out of hand last year. As it was, Miranda did not even remember the interview. No doubt her mind had been occupied with thoughts of the current issue, the upcoming photo shoots, and a myriad of details so common with her work. She had interviewed several people for the junior assistant's position, not trusting Emily to find someone who could last for more than a week.

Miranda would not make the same mistake. She would not let Andrea slip away so easily again. That oversight mortified her. Here was an opportunity to not only introduce raw talent to the fashion industry, but to nurture it, nurture her. Contrary to her reputation as the Dragon Lady, Miranda knew how to treat a person with kid gloves. Often, she was forced to stroke the egos of photographers, designers, and advertisers to further the interests of _Runway_. Yes, a tour of the magazine was a fabulous idea. Miranda nodded.

"Take care of the details, Nigel," Miranda murmured. She was certain once Andrea saw what they could offer her, she would change her mind. Miranda shooed away any other thoughts of what she wished to offer the young designer. This was a business arrangement, nothing more.

* * *

><p>Picking up her visitor's pass at the front desk, Andy nervously boarded the elevator. She was surprised to receive the invitation to shadow Miranda for the day at <em>Runway<em>. Nigel had urged her to take the opportunity to see what happened at the top magazine on a typical day. Although Andy hadn't changed her mind about leaving Lost Treasures, she was curious to see what Miranda did. Of course, she wanted to explore the art department, too. Nigel had even promised a tour of the famed Closet.

Stepping out of the elevator, Andy made her way to the receptionist and gave her name. A few moments later, a red-haired, stick-like woman approached her. "I'm Emily, Miranda's first assistant. She's waiting for you. Follow me." Andy hurried to keep up with the speed-walker while looking around curiously. Lots of glass and white surrounded her—modern, sleek, airy.

People hurried through the halls, all intent on some destination. No one smiled, no one chatted, no one joked. Andy felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. What kind of work environment was this? Andy stopped short when Emily suddenly turned to her. "Wait here."

Andy watched Emily enter another office and heard her named mentioned. _Miranda must be in there._ As if to bear out her supposition, a mellifluous voice massaged her name, drawing her forward as surely as a siren's song would a hapless sailor. She felt her heartbeat pick up speed as she crossed the threshold to Miranda's office and enjoyed her first glimpse of the fashion icon. She looked exquisite in a Prada crinkled cashmere blouse and matching tweed-and-lace trumpet skirt in blues and grays. Andy was mesmerized by how dark blue Miranda's eyes looked—specks of light reflected off them in a way that compelled Andy to look more deeply.

A cleared throat redirected Andy's gaze toward a quirked eyebrow and defined smirk. Andy blushed furiously, knowing she had been caught gazing like some love-sick teenager. "Mir-Miranda. Good morning. Thank you for inviting me here." Noting how Miranda's smirk widened, Andy jutted her chin out while clasping her hands tightly behind her back. When their eyes reconnected, the air between them seemed to vibrate.

"Good morning, Andrea," Miranda drawled. As Andy watched, Miranda's smirk softened into a small smile. When Miranda finally broke their gaze to run her eyes over Andy's outfit, Andy took a shuddering breath. She hoped the vermillion, draped, stretch-silk Zac Posen dress and black Jimmy Choo shoes were acceptable. The gleam in Miranda's eyes and the definitive nod indicated they were. Andy grinned.

With one last visual caress shot her way, Miranda leaned back in her chair and indicated Andy should also sit. "A typical day at _Runway_ consists of run-throughs of pieces I am considering showcasing in the next issue, previews of upcoming fashion lines, photo shoots, and meetings. Add on countless telephone calls, e-mails, and all those people who clamor for my time while I attempt to pull together the best fashion magazine possible before the impending print deadline and you will begin to understand what it is I do. Working in this industry is a labor of love and no place for the faint of heart."

Noise at the door stopped Miranda. She waved them forward, and a crowd of people swarmed the room, carrying accessories and pushing a rolling rack of clothes. Nigel entered last, and after shooting a smile Andy's way, he began directing the others on how best to set up the couture.

"Hmm," Miranda stepped purposefully toward some cocktail dresses and held one up. "Nigel, doesn't this remind you of Chanel 2004?"

"Oh, absolutely. Yet, the lines across here," Nigel ran a finger over the bodice, "are higher, and the fringe at the bottom hints at a certain playfulness indicative of Spring. Add those strappy sandals and that hat, and voila!" he said while twirling his hand upward.

"Not bad," Miranda murmured. "What else do we have?"

Watching the run-through, Andy gained an appreciation for Miranda's discerning eye. The way she pulled together textures, colors, and fabrics stimulated Andy's imagination. Miranda used combinations Andy never would have imagined to convey a richness, sensuality, and playfulness perfect for the end of winter.

Everyone practically fell all over themselves trying to please the editor. Even Nigel pandered to Miranda, quickly agreeing with every word she uttered. Andy couldn't imagine wielding such power every day. She wondered whether Miranda acted the same way in her personal interactions and whether she expected others to react so obsequiously. She certainly hadn't seemed happy when Andy had refused her offer of employment. But that wasn't personal.

Once the run-through ended, Andy sat, a bit dazed by what had just occurred.

"Do you have questions?" Miranda asked, pulling Andy from her swirling thoughts.

"Um, well, are run-throughs always like that?" Andy wondered whether _Runway _employees ever dared to offer their own ideas. If so, were they well-received, or did Miranda shoot them down if she hadn't thought of the idea beforehand or had a different vision? Miranda hadn't really acted in a harsh way, just abrupt. Maybe Miranda didn't act as cruelly as others had represented over the years.

"No. This one ran surprisingly smoothly." Miranda seemed extremely pleased. "What you saw was how every run-through should proceed. Unfortunately, my time is often wasted with short-sighted people and their regurgitated ideas. Fashion is all about creativity and uniqueness. We must introduce ideas that no one has seen before, visions others have not anticipated but will accept wholeheartedly. That is why we remain the top magazine in the fashion industry."

Andy found herself nodding her agreement. She felt like a newly initiated acolyte to the Goddess of Fashion. In her element, Miranda exuded power—she seemed bigger than life and oh-so-sexy. The types of clothes at her disposal, her ability to make or break an upcoming fashion line, the sycophants surrounding her every day—it was clear that Miranda thrived on them. It was all so different. Andy created by herself, using whatever clothing was on hand and her ingenuity. Andy knew that if she had access to the most fashionable clothes and props, she could create unforgettable displays.

Miranda stood up and rounded the desk as she called out, "Coat. Bag." Andy stared at Miranda, wondering how she was supposed to respond to those mysterious words. "Andrea, come. Stop dawdling." Andy jumped up to follow. When she saw Emily handing Miranda her coat and bag, Andy felt stupid for not guessing. Miranda strode out the door, Andy hot on her Prada heels.

When they exited the building, Andy saw Nigel standing next to a black town car. "Andrea will ride with me to the preview," Miranda said as she handed him a folder. He nodded and winked at Andy before ducking in to the car's interior.

Once they arrived at the showroom, Andy sat next to Miranda on a low couch while Nigel sat in a chair on Miranda's right side. Several members of the art design department sat behind them. Before they had entered the loft, Nigel had pulled Andy aside to educate her on Miranda's way of communicating her approval or rejection of clothes.

"There's a scale. One nod is good. Two nods is very good. There's only been one actual smile on record, and that was Tom Ford in 2001," Nigel said solemnly. "She doesn't like it, she shakes her head. Then, of course, there's the pursing of the lips."

"Which means?" Andy asked, intrigued and aghast.

"Catastrophe," Nigel intoned. Andy looked at Nigel, seeking a smirk or some indication that he was yanking her chain. Nope. He was absolutely serious. Andy nodded her understanding.

While watching the preview, Andy kept sneaking looks at Miranda to witness her reactions. One shake. Two shakes. Uh, oh…Andy watched as Miranda pursed her lips. The designer's voice faltered mid-description of what Andy viewed as a hideous dress. He wrapped up the preview quickly, and they left.

"That was an utter waste of time," Miranda said as they made their way to the cars. "Nigel, deal with it. Come along, Andrea."

Andy and Nigel exchanged looks before she hurried to the driver's side and slipped through onto the backseat. "Roy, drive us to Pastis." She gazed at Andy speculatively. "Why do you suppose I felt that line was so horrendous, Andrea?"

Nervous about providing the wrong reason, Andy swallowed convulsively. "Well, I know why I didn't care for it," she started hesitantly. "The fabric looked like plastic—thin and shiny, reminiscent of a trash bag. And the lines of that last dress were too severe. The asymmetrical cut did nothing for the chaotic design of the dress. And that bow on the second dress—" Andy shuddered as the dress flashed before her eyes. "He'd be better off ditching the bows and sticking with traditional hem lines." While Andy talked she looked at her hands, held tightly in her lap. She looked up through lowered lashes to see Miranda's reaction.

Miranda stared at her—surprise and pleasure crossing her face before a small smile took over. "Perhaps I should have you speak to him instead of Nigel. You are exactly right. It's a shame, really," Miranda sighed as she looked out the window. "I've held such high hopes for him." Andy watched her shake her head, disheveling the elegant bob just enough so that a forelock fell over her left eye. Andy's fingers twitched with the urge to move it away. She tightened her grip on her fingers.

The car pulled to the side of the street before Andy could formulate a reply. They entered the restaurant quickly, and the hostess immediately seated them. Andy looked around, noting several celebrities nearby. When she looked at the menu, she blanched. _Everything cost so much! Twelve dollars for a small salad?_ She was used to spending three dollars for a large piece of pizza and a soda. Talk about different worlds. "Do you, do you eat here often?"

"Yes. Their food is quite acceptable. The steak is always perfectly prepared." Miranda looked up from the menu, her eyes dissecting Andy. "I assume you have not eaten here before."

"No. I have not had the opportunity," Andy answered.

"Hm. Well, you cannot order a substandard dish here. I trust you will enjoy the food." Miranda closed the menu and placed it beside her plate. A waiter arrived before Andy could follow suit. Miranda ordered her steak while Andy stuck with her tried and true safety dish—a Caesar salad.

The salad was excellent, although small. The chef had arranged some romaine lettuce with four chunky croutons and a large, thin slab of parmesan cheese. Andy had requested no anchovies, and she idly wondered how the chef would have artistically arranged them on the plate. A circle of creamy Caesar dressing around the plate was surrounded by halved cherry tomatoes. It nearly looked too pretty to eat.

Trying not to gobble the pretty display too quickly, Andy wondered what was on the agenda for the afternoon. She couldn't wait to see the Closet. She had heard how vast it was. Andy knew that she would probably end up drooling while facing the myriad of fabrics, designs, and colors.

"Andrea, we have a photo shoot scheduled for next week with Albert Watson. It will give you a better idea of what you would be doing if you decided to accept my offer of employment. I will have Nigel provide you with the details."

"Oh, thank you, Miranda. I'd love to see how a photo shoot occurs. I love his work! He takes such wonderful photos. " Andy eyed Miranda thoughtfully as she took a sip of her water. "Why are you allowing me such access? I'd been led to believe that all of this: the run-throughs, the previews, and the photo shoots, are typically confidential so that none of your competitors can steal your ideas."

"Are you planning to reveal the details to my competition? Or to use them yourself for your next display?" Miranda asked, eyebrows raised.

"Of course not! I would never do—"

"Exactly." Miranda interrupted with a smirk. "I know you wouldn't."

That stopped Andy. Yet, it did not answer her question. She stared at Miranda, wondering how she could get a straight answer. "But why?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I want to help you? You have a creative spark that most do not possess in this business, a type of innocence and pure love of design, unsullied by desires or greed. I can help you. You are not meant to remain tucked away in a small resale shop." Miranda had leaned forward while talking, and Andy could easily see how earnest she was.

Andy didn't know how to respond. It seemed too good to be true. However, she still didn't feel right accepting Miranda's help when she had no intention of working for her. She didn't want to waste Miranda's time.

"Miranda, I am flattered. And grateful. But I won't leave Lost Treasures. They've been good to me. I don't want to waste your time or lead you to believe that I will work at _Runway_." Andy sighed, saddened by the thought that she might not get the chance to spend more time with Miranda. This day had opened her eyes to possibilities. Not to mention, Miranda was brilliant. She could learn so much from her.

A hand covering hers caused Andy to look into a penetrating stare. "You have made it perfectly clear, Andrea, that you do not wish to work for me. Nevertheless, I will not allow you to waste your talent. Not only are you able to design windows that emphasize the clothes in the best ways possible, but you are a very good painter. I am willing to bet you can write well, too. Didn't you once aspire to become a journalist?"

Astounded, Andy nodded her head dumbly. Miranda's hot hand burned Andy's soul.

"In fact, you were the editor-in-chief for the Northwestern student paper, correct?" Miranda continued, not letting go of Andy's hand.

"Yes. I haven't written anything for a while, but I was thinking of writing about the window designs and seeing whether I could get the article published." Andy offered, distracted by a thumb rubbing gently over the back of her hand.

"When it's ready, send it to me. I'd like to see it." Once Andy nodded, Miranda let go of her hand and sat back. Andy remained still as Miranda stared at her. "Tell me a bit about yourself, Andrea. I only know what little you revealed during your interview for the January spread."

"Oh, well," Andy laughed nervously, "I'm not that interesting. I'm from Cincinnati, and I couldn't wait to get away. Going to college was a wonderful experience. It opened my eyes to possibilities, new ways of viewing life. By the time I had graduated, I was full of hopes and dreams, and I was convinced I could do anything." Andy grimaced at her naivety.

"Well, you know the rest, pretty much. I couldn't get a job doing what I wanted, writing. So, I fell back on what else I knew, clothes. It's probably a good thing you don't remember me from when I interviewed with you. I hadn't been in the city long, and I had a horrible wardrobe. It's mortifying to remember."

"Did you come here by yourself?"

"No. I came here with my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, now, and some friends. We broke up recently. He didn't like all the hours I've been devoting to the boutique. And to add insult to injury, my friends sided with him." Andy shook her head.

"And your family remains in Cincinnati?"

Andy took a minute before answering. She wondered why she was telling the editor so much. She mentally shrugged. For some reason she trusted Miranda.

"Yes. Of course they were opposed to my coming to New York. When they found out Nate had left me, my father urged me to fly back," Andy said.

"How did your mother react?" Miranda asked.

"Oh, well, she passed away three years ago." Andy felt her eyes well up. "She, she's the one who taught me all about colors and fabrics. If she could see me now," Andy shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Andrea." Miranda hand once again covered Andy's in a sign of comfort.

A silence blanketed them as Andy tried to regain her composure. Once she did, she shot a watery smile at the editor. "Thanks."

Miranda squeezed her hand and let go. "You said _they_ were opposed to your coming to New York."

The question was clear. "My father and older sister. But I wanted to try. After Nate left and they urged me to return, I thought about why I wanted to remain here. The answer was simple: I came here for a reason, and until I've figured out what that reason is, I refuse to give up. I don't want to go back with my tail tucked between my legs. I don't want to give up." Andy stopped talking when she saw the look on Miranda's face. Compassion. Admiration. Approval.

"You will go far, Andrea. You have a mind of your own and the drive to succeed." Andy grinned at the praise.

"Um, if you don't mind my asking, I'd like to know about your daughters. I mean, aren't they teenagers now? That must be so hard, working all the time and trying to spend time with them…" Andy trailed off, not sure whether she had crossed a line.

"Caroline and Cassidy are just entering their teen years. They are vivacious and intelligent. I have no doubt you'd get along with them. They have enjoyed your displays. They make a game of guessing which scenes your displays reflect from the books you used for your designs." Miranda smiled softly.

"Oh! I'd love to meet them some time. Maybe they can give me some suggestions for future scenes. I have some ideas, but I usually wait until a few days before changing the display to commit to a design." Andy wondered at the look Miranda had on her face. Contemplative? Andy wasn't sure.

"Yes. I'm sure they would love to meet you. When do you intend to change the display?" Miranda sipped from her glass before signaling to their server for the check.

"Thursday night. I have just about everything ready." Andy's eyes lit up as she thought about her plans for the next display. She really hoped Miranda liked it.

"Are you working on Saturday?" Miranda asked as she slid a credit card into the bill fold and handed it back to the server.

"Yes, but only until six. Harold wants to rearrange the clothes, so he's closing." Andy jumped up as Miranda rose gracefully from the table. "Thank you for lunch, Miranda."

"You are quite welcome. The girls and I will come to the store at six, then. That way they can take a closer look at the display and talk to you about it over dinner," Miranda said. Andy ran around the car to slide in without causing Miranda to wait too long.

Realizing that Miranda had just invited her to dinner with her children, Andy smiled brightly. "That sounds fun. I look forward to it." Knowing she was going to spend time with Miranda again so soon excited her. All those stories about how unfeeling and cold she was—that was all a bunch of crap. Miranda had treated her with respect and warmth the entire day. Sure, Miranda was more reserved and brusque at work, but she had to be. Andy had experienced Miranda's work persona directly—after all, she would never forget that interview—and she had witnessed how others perceived her as extremely intimidating, but this Miranda, the private Miranda, was alluring and attractive. Andy felt privileged to be the recipient of such treatment. She certainly wouldn't take it for granted.

Andy got lost in the genuine smile Miranda directed her way. She felt a wave of heat pulse down her spine, resting below her belly button. After several seconds, Miranda cleared her throat and looked away. "This afternoon I have a meeting with Irving Ravitz, the CEO of Elias-Clarke. While I attend, you will tour the Closet with Nigel and then head over to where next week's photo shoot will occur. Currently, they are prepping for the area. Feel free to ask Nigel any questions."

Nodding her understanding, Andy said, "Okay. Thanks." They exited the car and walked toward the elevator banks silently. The tension between them pulsed relentlessly. Andy felt like pulling on her collar, she was so hot. Emily gasped when the elevator doors opened to reveal them, glaring at Andy before delivering several messages and writing down Miranda's responses. Halfway back to her office, Miranda stopped and turned to Andy.

"Nigel's office is that way." Miranda waved a hand down a side hallway. "I am planning to join you at the shoot location this afternoon, but if I do not make it, I will see you on Saturday."

"Okay. Thank you for today, Miranda. I really appreciate your letting me tag along." _And I loved staring at you, listening to you, feeling your hand on top of mine—just being near you_, Andy wanted to add but did not dare. "Bye." Andy began to deliver a dorky wave before getting it under control and turning away. She made her way to Nigel's and knocked on the glass door before entering.

"Well, well, if it isn't the belle of the ball. Have a seat, Andy." Nigel finished marking a sheet of negatives before placing the red pencil on the table. "Ready to see the Closet?"

"Are you kidding? I've been looking forward to it all day," Andy answered with a grin.

"Right. I'm sure you were bored out of your mind all morning," he drawled. Andy blushed. She certainly had not been bored. Smirking, Nigel moved toward the door. "This way."

When they entered the Closet, Andy gasped. Rows upon rows of clothes and accessories were arranged neatly. It was overwhelming and fabulous and oh so wonderful. Andy's eyes jumped everywhere, not knowing where to focus. "Oh my God. Nigel, this is, this is—I never could have imagined what this is!" Andy touched a gown with reverent fingers, allowing the fabric to slide over her palm. Decadent. The blood-red silk screamed sensuality and seduction.

"I felt the same way when I saw it for the first time. That was years and years ago, before you ever laid eyes on your first pair of Jimmy Choos." Nigel winked at Andy and walked slowly down the center aisle. "This way, dear. Let me reveal the mysteries of the Closet."

For the next hour Nigel explained the design of the Closet, allowing Andy to explore the orderly sections as she asked question after question. "It just blows my mind, Nigel. How do you ever get any work done? I'd just want to revel in all this beauty every single minute," Andy gushed.

Chuckling, Nigel said, "Believe me, I spend as much time as possible in here." He looked at his watch. "Unfortunately, we need to get going to the photo shoot location."

Sadness washed over Andy at the thought of leaving so soon. A hand on her shoulder brought her eyes to Nigel's smiling face. "Don't worry, Andy. I'm sure you'll get to see the Closet again."

Andy smiled in response, cheered by the thought. Besides, she really was looking forward to seeing how a fashion photo shoot was created. "Lead the way." After receiving a squeeze on the shoulder, Andy followed Nigel, knowing that the rest of the afternoon would expand her perspective in ways she could never anticipate.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Sweethearts, are you ready to go?" Miranda asked as she ducked her head into Caroline's room. Cassidy sat on the bed reading while Caroline typed on her computer.

"Yup."

"Yes."

Caroline quickly signed off and stood as Cassidy placed a bookmark in her book and set it aside. They followed Miranda down the stairs and to the closet for their coats. It was cold out, just a week before Thanksgiving. The days were shorter, and for some unfathomable reason _Runway_'s employees seemed to become less productive once the sun set, earlier and earlier in the afternoon. It was absurd, really. The work was always waiting, regardless of whether the sun shone brightly in the sky, as bright as Andrea's smile. Miranda's heart thumped pleasantly at the thought of seeing her again. She hoped her girls behaved.

"You didn't tell us what book she based the displays on, Mom," Cassidy said as they drove to the boutique. Miranda chose to drive her Roadster. She did not get to drive often, mostly transported by one of the work cars for business events. This was personal, though, even if Andrea did not quite realize it yet.

"You are right, Bobbsey. I want you two to guess, as you have with the other displays," Miranda said as she slowed for a light.

"What if we get it wrong, though. I don't want to look stupid," Caroline chimed in. Miranda looked through her rear-view mirror to catch her eye.

"You'll guess correctly. Andrea is very good at what she does. You will recognize the scenes, of that I have no doubt." Miranda hummed under her breath. The newest designs were as captivating and thought-provoking as the others had been. Miranda took such pleasure viewing Andrea's work. And yesterday afternoon, Andy had delivered the painting. Miranda had been out of the building, unfortunately, but Emily had confirmed it was Andy who had brought it to _Runway_. Miranda knew just where she would place it.

"You've seen it?" Cassidy asked with excitement. "Give us a hint, then."

"Oh, yes! Mom, just a hint. Have we read the book before? Is there a movie based on it or a play? What time period is it from?" Caroline asked leaning toward the front of the car.

"Well, if I remember correctly, you read the story this past summer. Over time, many have adapted it for film and television. That's all you'll get out of me. I expect you will recognize it," Miranda said as she double-parked. "Be careful getting out. We won't stay long, so take a good look at the displays."

The girls hurried to the large display windows, exclaiming over the presentations. Although a cold wind pulled at their coats, they seemed impervious as they stared at the two scenes representing _Jane Eyre_. The first window was easy to recognize. Jane watched Rochester as he walked sightlessly nearby. He wore a black, stylish Tom Ford suit with a slate-colored vest, white silk shirt underneath, and a black, gray, and red patterned tie. He carried a walking stick, and his eyes looked unfocused, his mouth opened, and head tilted upward, as if concentrating on the sounds around him. Jane stood watching, resplendent in her slate-blue Stella McCartney fitted coat over a matching ankle-length heavy wool dress and stylish dark gray winter Chanel boots that reached her knees. A bonnet was attached with a matching ribbon that tied under the mannequin's chin.

The other display was much more symbolic: Jane wore a fiery red Christian Dior gown, the fabric resplendent with its waves of gradient color, while an older gentleman, Miranda guessed he represented St. John since his light gray Gucci suit was simple yet elegant, held a frosted glass as he looked on, a sad smile on his face. Jane was walking away from St. John, toward a painting of a large manor in flames—Thornfield. Fire and ice. Passion and repression. As had occurred yesterday when she had seen the displays, Miranda's breath caught in her throat. Certainly Andrea was fire to Miranda's ice. Yet, Miranda wanted to break free from this self-made prison. She used to be passionate in all aspects of her life. Over the years, though, she had learned to control her emotions, to diffuse them until the sparks eventually had extinguished.

Until Andrea had entered her life and reignited her passion. Now Miranda felt her spirit burning brightly, and she did not want to go back to a passionless existence. She would not.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Andrea walked out the door and smiled widely as she buttoned up her coat. She quickly donned thick wool gloves as she made her way to Miranda's side. "Hi," she greeted Miranda.

Amused and charmed by Andrea's exuberance and clear excitement, Miranda nodded as her lips turned up. "Andrea. I believe my girls approve of your latest designs." She tilted her head toward Caroline and Cassidy, who stood talking animatedly, waving their arms and pointing at the displays.

"That's great. Do you, um, what do you think?" she asked as her eyes skittered away nervously, only to return with a look of hope glistening through them.

"You have yet to disappoint me, Andrea," Miranda answered softly. She stared into Andrea's animated face, jolted by the realization that her reply had made Andrea happy.

She was so used to ripping people apart in order to get what she wanted, what the magazine needed. Although she could sweet talk when necessary, she hardly ever meant the words she used as a tool to further her goals. Now, though, she wanted nothing more than to elicit again and again those sparkling eyes and wide smile currently directed her way, and not just to create leverage for convincing Andrea to join _Runway_. Miranda felt her heart thump with the realization that she cared for Andrea, the feelings a gentle echo of how she felt for her girls.

"What is it, Miranda?" Andrea said as she stepped closer and placed a glove-clad hand on Miranda's forearm. Miranda looked down at the hand and back into slightly-panicked eyes. Feeling Andrea's hand starting to lift, Miranda placed her hand on top of it, effectively keeping it in place.

"I find myself continually surprised by your vision and your ability to execute them as well as you do with so little means at your disposal." Miranda said, her eyes running over the windows once more. She wanted to say something much different, something along the lines of _I find you fascinating and alluring. I find my thoughts returning to you again and again. I want to kiss you; can I kiss you?_ Miranda realized she was staring at parted lips, the white stream of condensation she saw with each exhale at odds with how hot she felt at the moment.

Returning her gaze to Andrea's questioning eyes, she cocked her head pensively. She saw open eyes, eyes that began to darken the longer they stood staring silently at each other, eyes that expressed a desire recognized by Miranda's body before her mind could translate it. Miranda felt her nipples tighten in response and a tell-tale wetness made itself known between her suddenly weakened legs. Andrea's hand trembled slightly under her own. Miranda squeezed it reassuringly, wanting Andrea to accept these feelings coursing between them.

"Mom! Can we go? Oh, is this the window designer?" Caroline said.

Cassidy looped her arm through Caroline's and smiled at Andrea. "Hi. I'm Cassidy. This is Caroline. We love your displays."

Andrea squeezed Miranda's arm before withdrawing her own and turning her attention toward the twins. "Hi. I'm Andy. I'm glad you like the displays. I've been looking forward to talking to you about them." She transferred her gaze from Cassidy to Caroline, including them both in the conversation.

"Shall we go, then? We can discuss the displays while warming ourselves in front of a cozy fire." Miranda turned and led the way to her car. She was tempted to drive home, arrange for food to be delivered, and claim the kiss that she desperately desired. Of course, she would not. Andrea was closer in age to her daughters than to her—she was nearly twice Andrea's age! What was she doing, lusting after this woman? It was ridiculous, humiliating, really. The most she could hope for was to build a friendship. Anything else was merely the product of fanciful fantasies.

Lost in such thoughts, her mind arguing against her heart, Miranda remained quiet while the girls peppered Andrea with questions. Most answers Miranda already knew. She pulled into a parking garage near the restaurant and, after turning off the engine, glanced at Andrea. Caught in a warm gaze, Miranda took a deep breath and exhaled with a small smile. She jerked her head toward the car door and exited without a word. What could she say?

Those ridiculous desires were once again swirling through her, settling low in her stomach, causing her body to tremble with anticipation. Everything took on a peculiar sharpness: the dirty concrete parking garage floor they walked on, the clicking of her heels against it, the laughter of her daughters, and the warmth of Andrea's body walking closely next to hers. It was as if her perceptions had shifted as she had realized, truly realized, how her feelings had developed. Nigel had hinted at the possibility, but Miranda hadn't taken him seriously.

Without slowing down, Miranda strode into Per Se and nodded at the maitre d'. He grabbed some menus and led them to a table close to the roaring fire, but not so close as to cause them to feel uncomfortably warm. Miranda watched as Andrea's eyes traveled around the room before settling on her. A shy smile captivated Miranda.

"This is wonderful, Miranda. Thank you for inviting me." Andrea took off her outerwear and handed it to the waiting maitre d', as did Miranda, Caroline, and Cassidy.

"You're going to love the food here, Andy. They have the best chef's menu," Caroline said.

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Andrea replied.

"So, the displays are for _Jane Eyre_, right?" Cassidy asked.

"Yes, you're right. Did you recognize the scenes?" Andrea asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

"One was when Jane left the pastor to return to Rochester," Cassidy said.

"He was a minister," Caroline said.

"I don't think it said that. It said he was going to be a missionary." Cassidy looked at Andrea. "Isn't that right, Andy?"

"I think the book called him a clergyman. He was going to India to be a missionary, and he asked Jane to marry him and go with him," Andrea said. "What else did you get from that design?"

"She represents fire and was walking toward the fire. We talked about symbolism in school. And also, Rochester's house burnt down. She was traveling toward that, too, toward her passion." Caroline preened at Miranda's approving smile.

Her daughters were so intelligent. They had always excelled in school. In fact, Miranda often worried that they were not always mentally stimulated. Thankfully, Andrea's displays had helped them to become interested in books, again. Lately, well, ever since her relationship with Stephen had begun to fall apart, they had become apathetic to just about everything. Now, though, they sat fully engaged as they commented on the other display, the one representing Jane's realization that Rochester was blind.

The food was gobbled down by Miranda's companions, although all three attempted to maintain a modicum of manners. Miranda had a hard time not smiling at their obvious enjoyment of the meal. That was another revelation: Miranda felt the urge to smile more and more often. In the past, she had always felt tired and sucked dry by the end of the work day. Lately, though, she felt rejuvenated and vibrant. It did not take a genius to deduce why.

"What do you like to do outside of school?" Andrea asked Caroline and Cassidy. "I mean, do you play sports or like to read or draw?"

"We both play the piano, but I like basketball, too. And soccer," Cassidy said.

"I like to read more than she does, and I write mysteries," Caroline said proudly.

Miranda sat listening, wondering when she last had asked these questions. She couldn't remember. Often her daughters would natter away about what they were doing while she worked, but she had never attended a sports event where Cassidy had played, nor had she read anything Caroline had written.

"And she draws really good. I mean she draws well. She draws people," Cassidy added as she patted Caroline's shoulder.

"I like to draw, too," Andrea said eagerly. "I'm not very good. I mean, I've never had formal training or anything, but I like doing it."

"Really, Andrea. You speak as if you have no talent," Miranda chided. She looked toward her daughters. "You remember the painting that was in _The Great Gatsby_ display, the one I brought home last week?" At their nod, Miranda continued. "Andrea painted it."

"You did? Really?" Caroline asked, her eyes wide. "Wow! You are talented. Mom hung it in the drawing room."

Tilting her head in a pose Miranda often adopted, Cassidy seemed to study Andrea. "You're really different. I mean, you're interesting. And you don't treat us like little kids or try to impress us so we'll like you. You're just you." Cassidy shrugged her shoulders.

"Uh, thanks. I like spending time with you. All of you." Andrea swept her eyes around the table, settling on each girl briefly before connecting with Miranda's eyes.

Miranda felt that pulsing energy flowing between them once more, so strong she thought for a fleeting moment that she was leaning toward Andrea. Miranda blinked and wet her suddenly dry lips. "We will simply have to do this again, then," Miranda murmured.

"Yeah. And maybe I can see some of your drawings," Caroline said excitedly.

Cassidy elbowed her sister. "I want to see them, too."

"Girls. I am sure Andrea would be amenable to showing them to both of you if you asked nicely," Miranda said, smiling at how quickly they were bonding with Andrea. This was a welcome surprise.

"Andy, you'll show them to both of us, won't you? Maybe you can give me some tips. I'll show you what I've done," Caroline said.

"Well, I don't know that I would be much help," Andrea hedged, "but I'd love to see your drawings. The next time we get together, I'll bring my sketchbook over. And maybe both of you can give me some ideas for the next display."

"Okay. What are you going to do next?" Caroline asked.

"I have some ideas," Andrea said mysteriously, a sweet smile covering her face.

"Do you like sports, Andy?" Cassidy asked, clearly wanting to connect with her in some way. Miranda's heart warmed even more.

"Well, I jog as much as possible, and I used to play basketball, although I haven't in a while. With the colder weather, I'm not sure how much running I'll be doing," she answered.

"Maybe you can come to my school one afternoon and shoot hoops with me. I bet Mom can get permission for you, right, Mom?" Cassidy turned her head toward Miranda for confirmation.

"If Andrea can find the time and is able to join you, I am sure I can arrange for a visitor's pass," Miranda said. Of course she would do whatever she could to make her babies happy.

As they finished their dinner, Andrea answered more questions about her work and family.

"So, you aren't going home for Thanksgiving?" Caroline asked.

"No. I decided to save my money and fly back for Christmas. It's not a big deal. I'll watch the Macy's parade and have a turkey sandwich," Andrea said with a sad smile.

Both girls looked at Miranda with pleading eyes. She understood what they wanted. Miranda found she liked the idea. Very much. "Andrea, it is unnecessary for you to be alone. We usually watch the parade at a friend's house before returning home to eat. Why don't you join us?"

"Yeah, Andy. We can stand on the balcony and watch the parade—it's way better than standing in the crowd or watching it on TV. Come with us," Cassidy implored.

"You'll have fun with us. And you can bring your sketch book," Caroline added.

"And we can play Wii," Cassidy said.

"It will be great," Caroline said.

Miranda watched as Andrea's face broke into a smile at her girls' enthusiasm. She saw the question in Andrea's eyes and said, "You are welcome to join us, Andrea." As Andrea's beautiful face beamed happiness, her broad smile and expressive eyes communicated to Miranda just how much she wanted to spend the day with them. Miranda couldn't help but smile back.

As Miranda drove toward Andrea's apartment, she felt saddened by the thought that she would not see the younger woman for three days. Miranda took solace knowing she would see her at the photo shoot and on Thanksgiving soon enough. Pulling up in front of her apartment, Miranda parked the car and watched her passenger as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She was amused by how nervous Andrea looked.

"Well, um, thank you for dinner. I had a great time," Andrea said as she turned to look toward the back where the girls sat.

"Bye, Andy. See you at Thanksgiving. Don't forget your drawings," Caroline said.

"Bye, Andy. Maybe we can play basketball next week. I'll have Mom contact you about it," Cassidy said.

"Cassidy, you can contact Andrea directly, too. Isn't that right, Andrea?" Miranda said, knowing the answer even as she watched her nod her consent.

"Okay. Give me your e-mail address or your number so I can text you," Cassidy said enthusiastically.

Andrea took out a small notepad from her purse and wrote in it before ripping the page out and handing it to Cassidy. "There's my number and e-mail address. You can use either." She turned toward Miranda and said softly as she placed a hand over Miranda's where it rested on the stick shift, "Thank you, Miranda. I'll see you soon."

Just managing to nod, Miranda could have sworn that Andrea's hand remained on hers throughout the drive home. Regardless of how improper her feelings were, regardless of their age difference and disparate social standings, Miranda could not deny Andrea's hold over her. Miranda wondered whether it was a good idea to spend more time with her. She felt her chest tighten at the thought of not seeing her again. For better or worse, her heart was invested. She could only hope that Andrea would allow this tenuous connection to strengthen.

For once in her life, Miranda decided she would allow herself to explore this attraction without fearing how it might affect her reputation. The girls obviously liked spending time with Andrea, and Miranda could not deny her desire to become closer to her. She smiled softly. Perhaps she was allowing herself to become too wrapped up in the excitement of a new relationship when they had not even discussed the possibility, but Miranda had learned from her past failed relationships. She would not make the same mistakes.

For some unfathomable reason, she had been given another chance at happiness. She'd be a fool to shy away from the obvious bond they shared. Decision made, Miranda kissed her girls good-night and picked up the Book to review. She would make sure she spent more time with Andrea so that they could get to know one another. Whether they became friends or more, Miranda would keep Andrea in her life. She liked how she felt around the younger woman. And if Andrea's reactions were any indication, she liked being around Miranda, too.

* * *

><p>Leaving her apartment wearily, Andy pulled her heavy winter jacket closer as she carefully crossed the fine, icy coating on the sidewalks to the waiting town car. It had snowed yesterday, blanketing New York with several inches. Unfortunately, the temperature had proceeded to drop to the teens overnight, creating treacherous walking conditions. Andy wondered whether this weather was a warning that more of the same would occur. It wasn't even officially winter, yet. Walking around the city trying to keep warm and remain on her feet was not fun.<p>

Not that she had to walk anywhere today. This morning she was hitching a ride to the _Runway_ photo shoot in an impressive black town car, courtesy of one Miranda Priestly. Andy grinned before feeling it fade as she fell back into thoughts that had plagued her for several days. She could get used to such luxury. Too used to it. The chauffeur-driven cars, the expensive, tasty meals, the couture, and the limitless materials at her disposal if only she agreed to work for Miranda—it was so enticing. Yet, Andy knew this was not what she wanted. Well, she did want it, but she did not want to trade in her ideas of what she believed would be best for her.

Although Miranda had told her that she would be able to rise quickly within the company as she honed her skills, Andy didn't see how that would be possible. She would be forced to obtain permission for every action she took, every dollar she spent, every idea that she created—where would be her freedom, her autonomy, her authenticity? Her ideas would become diluted, colorless, and ordinary. Andy sighed. It was a perplexing problem since she knew Miranda strived to showcase originality. Maybe she just was not experienced enough to understand the process. Maybe she should listen to Miranda, trust her.

Hurrying inside the New York City Public Library at Fifth and 42nd, Andy walked over to where Nigel had decided the photos should be taken. As she strolled through the Rose Reading room, Andy felt awed by the endless shelves of books just waiting to be read. Tilting her head, she gazed at the restored ceilings, loving how they gave the room a timeless, weighty atmosphere.

"Good morning, Nigel," Andy said brightly as she joined him and another man.

"Oh, good! You're here. Andy, this is Albert Watson, our photographer," Nigel said.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Andy. Even before I saw your fabulous window displays, I had heard about them. I am honored to have you here," the photographer said.

"We are having some problems with the designing of the shots. When we came here last week, the sun was shining through much differently. Turns out this lighting won't work. We still want to use this room, but we won't be able to get all the shots we need here."

"Have you thought about using Astor Hall for some of the photos? It is majestic, beautiful, a great backdrop for vivid, bold colors," Andy said as she looked at the sketches for the photo shoot. She noted the interested looks on Nigel's and Albert's faces and continued. "The staircase is particularly magnificent. It would showcase these gowns," Andy said while pointing to several pictures of gorgeous Atelier Versace evening gowns in gold, deep reds, and midnight blues.

Looking around her once more, Andy asked, "Which clothes were you planning to shoot for this room?" She listened attentively as Albert explained his vision for the morning's activities. Looking through the portfolio of designs to be used, Andy stopped at a set of photos. "How about these dresses? They'd be complemented by the bookshelves and tables, don't you think?"

The men stared at the photos before looked around the hall. Nigel smiled widely as Albert nodded his head. "Excuse me, Andy," Albert said before walking away, pointing toward a set of bookcases as he directed his assistants to set up over there.

"You are a breath of fresh air, Andy," Nigel said. "Wouldn't you agree, Miranda?" he said as he turned to the side, revealing the editor leaning against a table, her penetrating gaze causing a flash of heat to race through Andy's body.

"Good morning, Miranda," Andy said hesitantly, wondering whether she would be angry that Andy had pretty much inserted herself into the planning of the photo shoot. She hadn't meant to, but the ideas were flowing, and she wanted to help. She watched as Miranda pushed off of the table with her hip before approaching them slowly.

"Andrea. What other ideas have you provided?" She continued to stare at Andy, who felt frozen to the spot.

It was Nigel who said, "She gave us a great idea for the Versace gowns. We are going to set up in Astor Hall, particularly on the staircase."

Miranda nodded her approval but did not turn away from Andy. "Do you have any other ideas, Andrea?" she asked softly.

"Ye-yes. I was thinking that the walls of the McGraw Rotunda might be the perfect backdrop for some of the Salvatore Ferragamo pantsuits." Noting the encouraging look Miranda gave her, Andy said, "And these black lambskin jackets," she pointed toward the Bottega Veneta photos, "paired with those Alexander Wang embroidered turtlenecks would look great in front of the paneled walls in the Periodicals room." Andy tried not to fidget while Miranda's eyes searched hers for several moments. Andy lost her breath when Miranda directed a smile her way. She couldn't help but smile in return.

Once Miranda turned away to implement Andy's ideas, she took a deep breath, just stopping herself from grabbing at the table like some Victorian heroine. Talk about dramatic! Andy felt a bit unsteady, but she wasn't about to pass out just because Miranda had smiled at her.

The morning flew by as Andy watched the inner workings of the photo shoot, often contributing her ideas when asked. She was pretty surprised how Albert requested her thoughts so often. Miranda did not say much, but she remained close to Andy as the hours passed. During a rare moment while Miranda took a call, Nigel sidled up.

"You are doing a wonderful job, Andy. Your ideas have saved the shoot. Don't think no one realizes that," Nigel said as he watched the models shifting into different poses at Albert's direction.

"Oh, Nigel, I'm just, you know, I see the colors and the textures, and I just know that they would look wonderful together," Andy said.

"Hm. You do realize, don't you, that it is highly unusual for Miranda to remain at a photo shoot this long? Particularly when we have used the photographer before." He looked pointedly at Andy, as if to tell her that she was the reason for the exception.

Before she could formulate a reply, Miranda rejoined them. "Andrea, come along." Andy raised her eyebrows as she looked at Nigel then at Miranda's retreating back. Nigel made a shooing motion and smiled. With a shrug, Andy hurried to catch up, grabbing her coat as she followed Miranda out the door and into the waiting car.

Miranda took her to lunch at a nearby deli, surprising Andy. Starved, she ordered a pastrami sandwich while the editor ordered a hearty salad. As they ate, Miranda asked her question after question about the shoot, what she had seen that had impressed her or confused her, and why she had paired certain fabrics and colors with particular rooms.

They also talked about Thanksgiving, Miranda providing more details of their usual activities. It was one of the few times during the year when she did not work. According to Miranda, the pace was decadently slow. She spent the entire weekend with her daughters, usually indulging them with activities they wished to do. Andy felt a twinge of envy at the thought of having Miranda's undivided attention for so long.

Once they were back in the car, Miranda announced, "I am sorry to say that I have meetings this afternoon that will prevent me from returning to the shoot with you."

Trying to not show just how disappointed she felt, Andy responded, "That's okay. I'm glad you were able to be there this morning. And thank you for lunch."

The car pulled in front of the library, signaling that Andy must leave. She felt bereft, even as she admitted to herself just how silly she was since she would see the woman in two days for Thanksgiving. Their gazes connected as Miranda reached over and covered Andy's hand with her own.

All day Miranda had terrorized her employees, pushing them to be better and to produce their best while Andy had watched. During that time, the editor had maintained a calm, cool demeanor. Even during lunch, although Miranda's interest in their conversation had seemed genuine, she had treated Andy with a formality that bespoke a business relationship. Yet now, during these few moments before Miranda had to leave, she held Andy captive through look and touch. Andy was mesmerized by the soft gaze, glimpsing the woman behind the business mask. Warmth shined through darkened blue eyes, drilling into her soul. She felt naked and vulnerable, sure Miranda could read the emotions welling up so suddenly, so strongly.

"We will pick you up at 7:30 on Thursday morning for the parade. Dress warmly. You are welcome to stay over Thursday night—we have several guest rooms," Miranda said softly before leaning forward and resting her smooth cheek against Andy's cheek. Andy's eyes closed, the sensations overwhelming as the familiar fragrance of Miranda's perfume swirled around her.

"O-okay," Andy whispered, feeling Miranda shiver before pulling back slightly. When their eyes reconnected, Andy gasped, feeling her body shake in response to the look she saw in them. She watched while Miranda's mouth opened slightly to sip air. When she exhaled, her breath touched Andy's face. Turning her hand to tangle their fingers together, Andy whispered reverently, "Miranda." An elegant hand touched Andy's cheek, finding its way to the nape of her neck where a gentle pressure was exerted.

Andy leaned forward to brush her lips against Miranda's welcoming mouth. Once, twice, three times she moved her lips gently across, hardly touching Miranda's lips. Hearing a small moan, Andy obligingly pressed more firmly, loving the feel of their lips moving in concert. Parting her lips a bit, Andy groaned when she felt Miranda's tongue swipe gently in between, just touching her tongue in greeting. She breathed through her nose as they slowly, so slowly rubbed their tongues together, the friction delicious, provocative, promising.

When they parted, Andy opened her eyes to find a tender look directed her way. Andy touched her lips, hardly believing what they had just shared. Biting her lower lip shyly, not knowing what to say, Andy smiled tremulously. She felt Miranda squeeze her hand before letting go.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go," Miranda said, her voice slightly hoarse.

Nodding her understanding, Andy opened the car door, got out, and leaned back in. "Bye," she said before closing the door.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, her head in the clouds as she replayed the kiss again and again. Nigel patiently explained the process, why at times the photos were sub-par or the set did not showcase the fabrics sufficiently, why they had chosen those clothes and accessories and this location and photographer. Andy began to understand how much planning was required for a spread, but she still had questions, so many questions.

At the end of the day as they were breaking down the last set, Albert said to Andy, "You really helped me today. I'll make sure you receive some compensation, if not from _Runway_ then from me. And I was wondering, would you be willing to help me with some upcoming shoots?"

"I, yes! I'd love to," Andy said, amazed that he wanted to work with her. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"Great! Give me your contact information. I'll call you once I have all the details." Andy quickly complied while trying not to allow a silly grin to overtake her face. Once he walked away, Andy shook her head in amazement.

Sighing, Andy thoughts turned toward work. She'd have to figure something out so she could work at the photo shoots. She didn't think Harold and Grace would give her a hard time. Business was booming. She had a feeling they'd be hiring someone soon which would cut into the number of hours she was allowed to work. At least if she wasn't working so much there, she could freelance in this way. And it wouldn't be working for Miranda directly, even if some of the photo shoots happened to be for _Runway_.

Andy really didn't think it would be a good idea to work for just Miranda, particularly after that shared kiss. It would be too complicated. However their relationship evolved, and Andy really hoped it would include more kisses, she never wanted to question Miranda's motivations.

Until this afternoon, Andy had not seriously considered leaving Lost Treasures. She hadn't seen how it would be possible. However, the photo shoot had opened her eyes. Maybe she could consult with a few photographers for their photo shoots or even with a few designers for their fashion shows. In addition, Macys, Bloomingdale's, and Saks had offered her window designing positions. So had Lord & Taylor, Nordstrom, Gianni Versace, Bergdorf Goodman, and Louis Vuitton. In just under a year Andy had redefined her career aspirations and blazed a trail in an industry she thought she had left at her mother's grave.

Andy became more excited as ideas formulated. The possibilities were endless. Now that her name was becoming known, she might be able to form a niche in the fashion industry while maintaining her independence. She could maintain her autonomy while creating in several forums. Smiling at the thought, Andy decided to really think about her future. Tonight.

First though, she wanted to stop by the boutique to see what type of winter coats were in stock for her next display idea. Walking through the door, Andy was surprised to find a woman behind the counter laughing as she rang up a customer. She seemed to be around Andy's age, maybe a little younger, with long blonde hair and light eyes. Andy looked around the boutique and spied Harold next to one of the _Jane Erye_ window displays conversing with a man who stared greedily at the painting of the burning Thornfield estate.

Not quite understanding why she felt a heaviness steal over her, Andy walked over to a rack of coats near the front and turned away so her back was to the men, pretending to be browsing as she listened to their conversation. She couldn't help but believe they were talking about her work. With that rationalization, Andy steeled herself to listen without feeling guilty.

"So, your window designer, Andy Sachs, painted this and the other painting?" asked the man.

"Oh, yeah. And she drew all the drawings. Andy has a great talent. She does a great job," Harold answered. Andy felt pride flow through her, happy to hear her boss say such complimentary words about her.

"I called a few weeks ago about the pool scene painting. I spoke to a man. Was it you?"

"Oh, no. It must have been one of my employees," Harold said jovially. "I hope you weren't waiting for a call back or anything."

"Actually, I was. I had left a message asking for the painter to return my call. Is Andy around now?"

"No, she has the night off. I am sure I can answer your questions, though," Harold said.

"Do you think she would consider showing her work in a gallery?" he asked.

"Um, well, I could present an offer to her on your behalf. You know, she's young. I wouldn't want her to enter such an arrangement without reviewing the terms on her behalf. I'm sure you understand," Harold said.

"Right. Well, here's my card. I own an art gallery in SoHo. Please give it to her and ask her to call me. I'd like to sit down with her and take a look at her portfolio." The man said.

"Sure. Sure. I just, you know, perhaps we could reach an agreement where I can just deliver the paintings each month after she has finished using them. She just throws them away. You can pay me a delivery fee, if you know what I mean, and everyone will be happy."

Andy froze, stunned by what Harold was suggesting. He was basically trying to sell her paintings and keep all the money for himself. _How dare he!_ Andy turned quickly and moved toward the men, feeling anger flush her cheeks.

"I am going to give you the opportunity to explain what sounds to me like your underhanded attempt to sell my work without my permission," Andy said in a low voice.

"Andy! When did you get here?" Harold asked, taking a step backward.

"Just in time, it seems." Andy turned to the other man. "Hello. I'm Andy Sachs." She held out her hand and shook his firmly as he smiled a greeting. "I'm so sorry for any confusion. I never got your message."

"I am sorry to hear that," he answered as he shot a suspicious look at Harold. "Clive Ludsky. I'd like to sit down with you to discuss your paintings and drawings. I had an interesting conversation with a mutual friend last month. He believes you to be extremely talented, and I am inclined to agree."

"Thank you. That is very kind of you to say. How about tomorrow morning?"

"Andy, you are working tomorrow," Harold interjected.

"No. No, I am not." Andy held Harold's gaze firmly, letting him see just how angry and hurt she felt.

"Right. I forgot that you were taking tomorrow off," he said quickly. Of course, that wasn't true, but he was capitulating, perhaps hoping Andy would calm down.

"And Friday," Andy clarified before turning back to Clive. She didn't care if the day after Thanksgiving was the busiest shopping day of the year. She needed some time away from the boutique to deal with this betrayal.

"Tomorrow, then. Does ten o'clock suit you?"

"That sounds perfect," Andy answered with a smile. They said their good-byes and a loaded silence descended upon Andy and Harold.

Andy looked at her boss as her mind worked furiously. "I am going to take time off while I think about what just occurred," she said calmly.

"Andy, it's not what you think," Harold began.

"No? You didn't conveniently forget to tell me that he called and left a message for me? You weren't just trying to make a deal with him where you'd be paid for delivering my paintings without my permission? You weren't throwing away an opportunity for me to be rewarded for my talent so that you could profit instead?" Andy stood with her arms folded tightly over her chest, indignation stealing over her once more. He had no right to cavalierly throw away her chance to show her work and to be compensated for it.

"It, it sounds worse than it is, Andy. I figured you don't do anything with the paintings, so why not give them to the guy?" Harold tried.

"Stop," Andy said, holding out a hand for emphasis. "Don't lie to me. I thought you were my friend. I've received so many offers to leave here, and I've refused every time because I was loyal to you. I'm such a fool." She stared hard at him. "You'd better hope I decide not to tell Miranda. I have no doubt she would take pleasure in destroying you on my behalf," Andy said as she turned away. "I'm leaving." She exited the store quickly, not wanting him to see the tears building in her eyes.

Andy traveled home as if in a trance. Unlike earlier when she felt dazed by the kiss she and Miranda had shared, now her mind stuttered over the events in the store. Sighing as she sat down on her well-worn sofa, Andy realized that she had quite a bit to think about. She had received several offers, precisely as Miranda had predicted. And, new offers kept streaming in, but Andy had never given them much thought until today. Now, though, her perspective had changed rather dramatically. With the new possibilities of working for fashion photographers and designers, Andy could freelance with them and create window designs at any of those stores.

Miranda had been correct. Andy felt foolish. Naïve. Stupid. Her thoughts kept returning to Harold's duplicity. How could he do that? How could he trade in her loyalty, all she had done for the boutique, for a quick buck? She sighed loudly. She would have to leave.

What would she do, though? Working with Albert was a start. And maybe something would come of tomorrow's meeting with Clive. Andy still didn't think her works were good enough to show in a gallery, but she would just have to trust his judgment. As for the department stores, Andy wondered whether she might be able to arrange to become a consultant of sorts. That way she wouldn't be limited to one store. Maybe she'd bring it up with Miranda and see what she thought.

Hearing her cell phone ring, Andy answered, "Hello? This is Andy."

"Damn, girl! Why didn't you tell me you started painting again?"

"Hey, Lily." Andy leaned back, resting her head on the sofa's back cushion.

"Andy, your name is everywhere in the art world. My boss was talking about your window displays with an art dealer, and I overheard him saying that he was interested in showing your art," Lily said excitedly.

"Really? It's all so weird. I'm meeting with some guy, Clive Ludsky, tomorrow. He wants to show my work, too. And I'm going to work with Albert Watson for some photo shoots next week. It's like all of a sudden, I'm able to create in all these different ways." Andy smiled. "I love it."

"Well, just don't forget the little people," Lily joked.

"I would never do that. I'd never desert my friends." Andy could hear the bitterness in her voice. She was thinking of how they had acted when Nate had left. She was sure Lily was, too.

"Yeah. I know, Andy," Lily said softly. "So," she said in a louder voice, "when are you flying to Ohio?"

"Oh. I, um, I'm staying in town. I decided to spend Christmas with the family instead," Andy said, sitting forward and gripping the phone tightly.

"Do you want to come over, then? I'm cooking a small turkey with all the fixings," Lily said.

"That's really nice of you, but I've made other plans," Andy answered.

"Doing what?" Lily said in surprise.

"I'm spending it with Miranda and her daughters," Andy said and held her breathe.

"Miranda Priestly? Editor-in-chief of _Runway_? The Grande Dame of Fashion? How did that happen?" Lily squealed.

"You know _Runway_ did a spread on Lost Treasures that will be in January's magazine. We just, we've spent some time together." Andy shrugged even though she knew Lily couldn't see her. "I like spending time with her."

"Andy, are you? It sounds like you…" Lily trailed off. "Are you dating her?"

"Dating? No!" Andy exclaimed.

"Because the way you are talking about her, your tone of voice makes me think that maybe you are," Lily continued.

"We are not dating." Andy forced a laugh. "She and I, we live in different worlds. She has taken me under her wing for some unknown reason, and I'm grateful. That's all it is, though." Andy inwardly cursed at the wistfulness in her voice. She was sure Lily would hear it.

"Oh my God! You want it to be more! Wow, Andy! This is huge!" Lily nearly shouted. "How does she treat you?" she practically whispered.

Andy stifled a chuckle. She could just imagine Lily looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. Andy smiled affectionately. "She's wonderful. You know, she has her public persona, the way she has to act at work to get things accomplished. She isn't like that in private, though. You should see her with her girls, Lily. She's a different person. And she's been so nice to me." Andy took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm being careful. I mean I refused her job offer. I don't want that between us. I have to admit, though," Andy said softly, "she fascinates me."

"Girl, are you listening to yourself? You are a lost cause. Just, be careful, all right?" Lily asked.

"Yeah. So, if I don't talk to you beforehand, have a wonderful Thanksgiving."

"You, too, Andy."

Andy sat for a few minutes thinking about their conversation. How could she be so arrogant as to believe Miranda would return her feelings? Just because they were attracted to each other, it didn't mean that Miranda was willing to enter a relationship with her. The phone ringing once more stopped her spinning thoughts. "Hello?"

"Andy, it's Cassidy. Want to play basketball tomorrow afternoon? You can come back home to have dinner with us afterward," she gushed excitedly.

"Sure. That sounds like fun," Andy agreed.

"What? Okay," Cassidy said, her voice muffled. "Andy, Mom says you can sleep over tomorrow and we can go straight to the parade the next morning. Isn't that cool?"

"Uh, yeah. That's really nice of her," Andy said, dazed. Miranda had invited her stay in her home Thanksgiving night, already. And now she was inviting her to stay over tomorrow night, too. That must be a good sign, right? Miranda wouldn't casually extend such invitations if she didn't have feelings for her. Would she? Andy doubted it. The woman was so private that Andy couldn't help but believe that she would never let Andy get so close to her if she only thought of Andy as a business connection. "What time and where?"

"Dalton at two. We have a half day because of the holiday, but I'm going to lunch with some friends," Cassidy said. "Oh, and Caroline wants me to remind you to bring your drawings."

"I will. Sounds good. See you tomorrow." Andy grinned as they hung up. The thought of spending time with the Priestly women raised her spirits significantly. It looked like her life was moving forward whether she was ready or not. Obviously, Miranda reentering her life was a catalyst for all these changes. She still couldn't figure out why she was in Miranda's life, though.

Shaking off her insecurities, Andy decided to eat supper and spend the evening writing about some designs that had popped into her mind while at the photo shoot. They would not fit with the classic books motif she had been using at Lost Treasures, but maybe she could use them in the future. As for what she would do about the boutique, she decided to find out Miranda's opinion.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Hearing the door open, a fission of anticipation raced down her spine. Miranda heard Caroline yell out, "Andy's here!" as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror once more. Although she had not anticipated seeing Andrea again before Thanksgiving, events had conspired to grant her the opportunity to spend more time with her just a day after the photo shoot, after that delicious kiss. How she was supposed to act unaffected around the younger woman while they were in the company of her daughters was her present quandary. What she wanted to do was pull Andrea into her bedroom and kiss her. While on a bed. With no interruptions. And no clothing.

She was not used to feeling so out of control. Although exhilarating, it was also unnerving. Her only saving grace was that she was certain Andrea felt the pull, too. Moving through her bedroom door, she coached herself to not appear too excited. It was unseemly for a woman her age. She slowed her steps as she descended the stairs, hearing a flurry of movements and a door opening. _They must be removing their coats._

Turning into the foyer, Miranda saw Andrea dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. A tight t-shirt that left no question that the woman was fit. And desirable. Miranda swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She heard the tail end of the conversation as she forced herself to move forward.

"…I'm sure you can take a shower before we eat. I'll show you where you'll be sleeping," Cassidy said as she closed the closet door.

"Okay. Great," Andrea said. Miranda watched them turn toward her.

"Hi, Mom," Cassidy said. "I'm going to show Andy around so she can get cleaned up." At Miranda's nod, Cassidy moved toward the staircase. Miranda wasn't watching, though. She trained her eyes on Andy and moved closer.

"Hi," Andrea said softly.

"Hello, Andrea," Miranda answered as she stopped before her. Miranda rested her eyes briefly on glistening lips and smiled when she heard a small gasp. It reassured her, knowing that she could affect Andrea with just a look. She wanted to kiss Andrea. She was going to kiss her. Moving forward, Miranda changed course at the last moment when she heard Cassidy say Andrea's name. Instead, she kissed Andrea's soft cheek and whispered, "I want to kiss you, Andrea," pulling back just enough to see her face. Andrea flushed as her respiration picked up. Staring for another moment, Miranda stepped back and turned to the side so Andrea could pass.

She smirked as Andrea stalled. Cassidy's insistence that Andrea "come on!" finally stirred her into action. Before following Cassidy, though, she stepped into Miranda's space. "I fully expect you to claim that kiss once we are alone," Andrea whispered boldly while gazing into Miranda's eyes. Miranda shivered with anticipation. Pursing her lips slightly, she turned to watch Andrea walk toward the stairs with her overnight bag. This woman kept her on her toes. She liked it.

Miranda retired to her office to finish up her obligations. She wanted to be able to concentrate on her family without work getting in the way. And she wanted to focus on Andrea, on how she made her feel, on the wonderful activities she wanted to share with her.

A knock on the door made Miranda look up. She noted that nearly an hour had passed since she had begun her work. She looked down once more, happy to find that she was nearly finished. "Yes?"

Andrea poked her head in. "Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know that dinner will be ready in ten minutes," she said with a smile. Such a beautiful sight.

"Very well. I am nearly done." Miranda looked down once more and saw an error on the page. She began writing down instructions to fix it as she heard the door shut. She made a few more corrections before closing the Book. Smiling with satisfaction, she looked toward the closed door. Now that her work was done, she could enjoy the rest of the holiday week.

Miranda entered the dining room to find her daughters and Andrea already seated as their cook placed the dishes on the table. Andy beamed at Miranda, eliciting a smile. She sat down at the head of the table and took a sip of water. "I hope you found a way to occupy your time while I attended to some work demands," Miranda said as she focused on her guest. She looked delectable in a white Derek Lams draped jersey dress. It emphasized her defined collar bones and hinted at cleavage, drawing Miranda's eyes toward breasts she wanted to taste. With the way the deep cowl neckline draped, Andrea could not be wearing a bra.

"So, can we, Mom?" Caroline asked.

Crinkling her eyebrows in confusion, Miranda realized she had missed the conversation. She had no idea what her daughter was asking her to do. She looked at Andrea, who sported a knowing look on her face.

"What do you say, Miranda? Can we watch the new Harry Potter movie?" Andrea asked sweetly.

Miranda nodded as she attempted to rein in her desires. It seemed she would not be alone with Andrea any time soon. She had to hand it to her—Andrea was purposefully provoking her. If Miranda could tamp down on her feelings long enough, she might be able to turn the tables. Yes. Two could play at this game. "That sounds delightful. Girls, why don't you set it up while Andrea and I clear the table." Miranda watched as Andrea swallowed convulsively, suddenly less sure of herself. Miranda kept her eyes on Andrea while her girls took their plates and left the room.

"Andrea, I do not believe I have complimented you on your attire, yet. Allow me to rectify such an oversight," Miranda began as she stood up and approached her quarry. Andrea stood up just as Miranda reached her. Miranda extended a finger out and traced along the neckline lightly, just teasing the skin with her fingernail. "You look delicious," she said in a low voice. She could feel tremors running through Andrea's body.

"I do?" she asked breathlessly.

"Mmm. I bet you taste delicious, too," Miranda said as she wrapped an arm around Andrea's waist and pulled her closer. No longer caring who kept the upper hand in this little game of seduction, Miranda claimed the kiss she had desired to experience again since yesterday.

Hungrily, Miranda pressed herself flush against Andrea's supple body, her hand wrapping through dark locks as she consumed kiss after kiss, each fueling the fire raging through her. The realization that she might climax just from the passion exploding between them drove Miranda to pull away suddenly. She was so aroused, her body pulsed with need. Opening her eyes, she watched Andrea take deep breaths to calm down. That same hazy look she had seen when watching Andrea wake up at the boutique presently graced Andrea's lovely features. Along with that though, desire burned brightly in those chocolate eyes.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, my daughters are waiting for us." The crestfallen look in Andrea's eyes made her pull the younger woman into her arms. She held her tightly, running her hands over defined back muscles soothingly. "If I am moving too quickly, I am counting on you to tell me. I will not think less of you," Miranda murmured. "There is something about you that makes me lose my restraint."

"You aren't rushing me. Far from it. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here," Andy replied as she turned her head and delivered hot kisses to Miranda's neck.

Sucking in a breath as her body responded to several gentle nibbles, Miranda turned her head to capture Andrea's full lips again. She just couldn't resist. When Andrea moaned into her mouth and thrust her pelvis forward, Miranda felt the first tremors of an orgasm building. Although she did not want her first time with Andrea to play out this way, Andrea continued to move against her, groaning when Miranda opened her lips wider to welcome more of Andrea's tongue into her mouth, and she was lost. Her body shuddered as she gave in and wrapped her hands around a luscious bottom, kneading as she took control of the kiss.

If she was going to have an orgasm while fully clothed in her dining room after merely ten minutes of deep kissing, she was going to make damn sure Andrea was right there with her. Feeling Andrea's lower body jerking against hers, Miranda guided her into a rhythm, shifting so her leg was between Andrea's long ones. She pressed into Andrea's hot center with her thigh as she pulled Andrea forward and felt her jolt hard. Andrea ripped her mouth away, tucking her head into Miranda's neck as she released. Miranda heard her named exhaled and experienced her own climax, pulling Andrea as close as she could. She leaned heavily against Andrea while her body shook.

They remained locked in a tight embrace for several minutes while their breathing slowed down. It amazed Miranda how strong this encounter felt, how profound her reactions to this woman were. She couldn't wait to explore Andrea's body again, this time without the hindrance of clothing. Smiling, Miranda loosened her hold. She noticed how bashful Andrea seemed and chuckled. "Andrea, surely you are not feeling shy now, are you?" Miranda raised her eyebrows. "It's a little late for that, wouldn't you agree?" she teased.

"No. That's not it. It's just, how am I supposed to sit next to you while Caroline and Cassidy are in the same room without climbing on your lap? I want more," she whispered intensely.

Miranda felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes widened in surprise. "Perhaps if you keep in mind that you will be sharing my bed tonight, it will encourage you to restrain yourself," Miranda offered with a smile.

"Hmm, I don't know. That just makes me want to take you to bed now," Andrea answered with a smile of her own.

"Don't tempt me. The girls would be extremely disappointed." She stepped away from Andrea, running a hand through her hair before picking up some plates. "There's a bathroom down the hallway on the right," Miranda said as she waved a hand in the general direction. While Andrea freshened up, Miranda placed all the dinnerware into the dishwasher quickly, knowing the girls would be wondering where they were. Once Andrea returned, Miranda took her turn to make herself more presentable. It would not do to have the girls guess what had delayed them.

Before they climbed the stairs, Miranda leaned in and delivered a slow, gentle kiss. "I had no idea I would lose control so quickly. That's never happened to me before."

"Me neither. I've never responded that way to anyone's touch." Andrea traced a finger down Miranda's cheek. "You have taken over my thoughts. I can't get enough of you."

"You say that now, but soon enough you'll become bored," Miranda said flippantly as she turned away. Andrea's hand on her shoulder stopped her progress.

"No, Miranda. You're wrong. If anything, it's more likely that you'll become tired of me. Only time will prove to you that I'm telling the truth, though—that you become more and more fascinating to me each time we are together. I'm willing to wait around to prove it to you."

Turning toward Andrea, Miranda answered, "I am also willing." Andrea's smile was tinged with relief. How could she think Miranda did not want to spend more time with her? Miranda took Andrea's hand and pulled. They walked up the stairs and to the entertainment room with fingers tangled.

Before they reached the door, Miranda stopped. "Andrea, it is apparent that my daughters like you, but I would rather they become more used to your presence before exhibiting any behavior that would lead them to conclude we have embarked on a romantic relationship." She looked at Andrea apologetically. "I won't keep this from them for too long, I promise, but I am in the middle of a divorce. When people realize not only that I am with someone new but that I am with a woman," she shrugged, "I doubt we will enjoy much privacy."

"I understand. I don't want to make your life more difficult. If we need to keep this a secret, then we will—for as long as you want," Andrea said as she squeezed Miranda's hand and let go.

Miranda cupped Andrea's beautiful face. "Please don't think that I am embarrassed to be seen with you. I'm not. It's just—my girls. The papers will say anything to make a profit, and it's so unfair to my girls."

Andrea gazed at Miranda with a sweet expression. "Don't worry. As long as we can keep our hands off each other in public, no one will think twice about our being seen together, particularly since my work seems to be pulling me into your sphere."

Raising her eyebrows, Miranda muttered, "That is easier said than done." She dropped her hand and turned toward the entertainment room. Andrea's laugh followed her as surely as her luscious body, causing Miranda to smile as she stepped over the threshold. "Is the movie ready?" she asked as she settled on her favorite chair, tucking one leg under her.

"Yup," Cassidy said, her eyes traveling between Andrea and Miranda.

Andrea sat on the lounge, the farthest piece of furniture from Miranda, much to her amusement. Evidently, Andrea was taking no chances. Running her eyes over Andrea, she felt her pulse quicken. That dress left little to the imagination, yet hid far too much from Miranda's greedy eyes. Her fingers itched to touch every inch, and she would once they retired for the evening. She could feel herself becoming wet once more, her body readying for more lovemaking.

She truly hoped the movie was good; otherwise, she didn't think she'd be able to derail her thoughts. Shifting to a more comfortable position, Miranda said, "Caroline, will you be a dear and retrieve a bottle of water for me?" She watched as her daughter hopped up and crossed the room to the full bar. A small refrigerator was always stocked with water, juices, and soda.

"Andy, do you want one?" Caroline asked. She grabbed another bottle at Andy's nod.

"Thank you," Miranda said once she received the bottle, twisting the top open quickly and nearly gulping half of it. She was so hot. When she finished, she glanced up to see Andrea watching her closely. She knew.

Irritated, Miranda barked out, "I thought we were going to watch a movie, not sit in silence. Cassidy, any time you would like to begin, please do. You know how a glacial pace thrills me." A moment later the movie began, and Miranda felt remorse blanket her. She should not take out her sexual frustration on her daughters. Honestly, she was acting like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first love affair, all googly-eyed, hot, and bothered. It was pathetic, but she just couldn't seem to control her responses, and that made her all the more frustrated.

Taking some deep breaths while pretending nothing was amiss, Miranda attempted to settle herself. She would have Andrea in her arms in a few short hours. Then she would feast on that lovely body, every inch. Feeling calmer, Miranda glanced over at Andrea. And promptly wished she had not. Andrea stared at her through lowered eyelashes, lips parted, one hand gripping the sofa arm, the other a tight fist. Good Lord! Miranda ripped her gaze away, afraid one of them would act inappropriately. Not daring to look that way again, she trained her eyes on the television. After a while, Miranda's body lost its tension as she was swept up into the story.

By the time the movie ended, Miranda felt much more in control. She turned to her daughters. "Did you enjoy it?" she asked.

"It was great, Mom. Thanks for getting us a copy," Cassidy exclaimed. Of course it was not yet available to the general public.

"You are quite welcome, Bobbsey," Miranda replied.

"I liked it too, Mom. Thanks," Caroline said with a smile. Miranda smiled back.

"All right. Time for bed. Go wash up, and I will be up in a few minutes to say good night," Miranda said.

"Thanks for playing basketball with me, Andy. I really had fun," Cassidy said as she got up.

"Me, too. We'll have to do it again soon," Andy replied.

"And tomorrow can we see your sketches, Andy?" Caroline asked.

"Absolutely. I can't wait to see yours. Good night, guys," Andy said.

"Night," they both answered before leaving the room.

Silence reigned as Miranda finally allowed herself the pleasure of staring at the younger woman. Andrea stared right back, passion darkening her eyes so much that Miranda could hardly see the irises. Suddenly they were both striding toward each other, meeting in the middle of the room, their lips meshing in a heated kiss. Miranda groaned as pleasure coursed through her. Andrea's hands framed her face as her tongue invaded Miranda's mouth, plunging forth again and again. Miranda's hands clamped onto strong shoulders to keep herself from sinking to the floor in a pool of lust and heat.

"If you don't take me to your bed right now, Miranda, I will strip you where we stand, consequences be damned. I need you," Andrea said heatedly.

"Let's go," Miranda said, desire clearly present in her raspy voice. She did not want to wait a moment longer; she was not sure she even could.

Miranda led the way quickly, practically feeling Andrea's heated breath on the back of her neck. When they reached the second floor landing, she stopped short. Hot hands grabbed her shoulders. Miranda turned her head slightly, "I have to say good night to the girls. My room is on the next floor to the right. I will be there soon." Andrea's hands dropped away as Miranda turned into Cassidy's room.

"Good night, Bobbsey. We'll leave here no later than eight, so be ready." She leaned down to deliver a kiss to the girl's cheek.

"I'll be ready. Good night," she responded.

Miranda approached the door. When her hand was on the light switch she heard, "Mom?" She turned with a raised eyebrow, waiting to hear why her daughter had stopped her. "I really like Andy. I hope we can spend more time with her."

Miranda smiled as she nodded. Yes, she had every intention of making sure Andrea became a fixture in their lives. "I have no doubt that we will. Good night." Miranda turned off the light and headed toward Caroline's room.

"Good night, Bobbsey. Make sure you set your alarm. We will be leaving by eight." She kissed Caroline's cheek. As she rose, Caroline also stopped her.

"Mom. Are you and Andy, are you _friends_?"

Miranda's eyebrows rose at the emphasis added to the last word. "Yes, we are friends," she replied slowly while studying her daughter's face. She knew Caroline was leading up to more. Always the more sensitive child, Miranda had realized years ago that the girl's instincts were usually accurate.

"Good friends?" she persisted.

"What are you getting at?" Miranda asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I, we really like Andy. And I think you do, too. She's different. I can tell she likes you, too. Since you started talking about her, you seem happier. So, it's okay. I mean, as long as you share her sometimes. Okay?" Caroline looked up hopefully.

"Okay," Miranda answered, touched that both her daughters were giving their blessings in their own unique ways to her budding romance with Andrea. Not having to hide her feelings while in her own home would help lessen the burden of secrecy they would have to carry during the ensuing months. Although Stephen had cooperated so far, she would rather he not know, if only to spare Andrea and her children from the media frenzy. She smiled at Caroline before rising. "Good night," she said softly before turning off the light.

As she ascended the stairs her thoughts focused on who was waiting for her in her room, hopefully naked. Then again, having the privilege of peeling off that dress certainly held its own appeal. Opening the door, she saw that neither was the case. Andrea sat on the edge of the bed in a black satin negligée. Immediately, Miranda could imagine gifting La Perla to this woman. Her mouth watered as she locked the bedroom door and gazed at Andrea.

"It seems," she drawled as she crossed the room, "that my daughters approve of you. In fact, they both expressed their hope that they would be seeing much more of you."

"They said that?" Andrea asked as her face lit up.

"They did." Miranda smiled as she leaned forward to claim a kiss. "I am going to clean up. I won't take long." Knowing Andrea was watching her, Miranda emphasized the sway of her hips as she exited to the bathroom suite. Normally, when sharing her first night with a new lover she would keep her make-up on, even touching it up in the wee hours of the morning so that she would look fresh in the morning. Miranda felt no compulsion to mask the natural progression of age, as evidenced by the fine lines on her face. Even the best beauty products could only slow down aging to some extent. She knew on a very elemental level, however, that she need not hide herself from Andrea.

Miranda reentered the bedroom and saw Andrea gazing at photographs gracing a small bookcase. Several were of her daughters, a few had her with them, and one old black and white photograph was of Miranda's parents. When Andrea looked at her, she could see curiosity burning brightly, but it morphed into desire rather quickly.

"You look amazing," Andrea said huskily as her eyes caressed Miranda's body.

"I could say the same to you," Miranda answered. Without hesitation she pulled Andrea to her and covered her mouth with a scorching kiss. Her hands began the lovely task of mapping out Andrea's body even as she guided her toward the bed. Soon she had Andrea splayed out before her, chest heaving and body flushed.

Lying to the side of Andrea, Miranda ran a hand down her arm, landing on a hip before changing direction. Hardly touching, Miranda skimmed her fingers up and between breasts Miranda fully intended to taste. "You are beautiful, Andrea," she whispered as she slid a finger under one of the spaghetti straps and lowered it, repeating the process for the other one. Now that she had time, calmness settled over her. Although the passion was present, accompanied by need and desire, she did not feel the desperateness she had experienced in the dining room.

Insistent hands pulled her forward. Andrea kissed her, such deep kisses that Miranda felt herself melting. She was not surprised when Andrea broke the kiss to pull off her negligée and then Miranda's in swift, sure motions. Miranda shifted, hovering over Andrea for a sweet moment while their eyes connected before lowering herself into a welcoming embrace. She groaned at the indescribable feeling of her breasts sliding against Andrea's. Already her sex was clenching rhythmically as she rocked slowly against Andrea.

A full breast beckoned Miranda's mouth closer. Her lips surrounded the stiffened peak as her tongue snaked out to taste. Exquisite. Addictive. Andrea's whimpers spurred her to suck harder, to lash out at the bud stronger and faster. She moved her hand to massage the breast as she continued her loving assault. They fell into a rhythm that threatened to sweep Miranda away. If she could just hold on a little longer, though.

Miranda switched breasts while continuing to knead the newly abandoned one, loving how Andrea thrust her chest upward, as if begging for more. Leaning fully on her, Miranda's other hand traveled down a shaking body, reaching between toned legs and gently stroking along the crease. A strangled groan, so low it sounded as if it had traveled from Andrea's toes, electrified Miranda. She felt a surge of wetness rush through her, bathing the flexing leg beneath her as she moved her fingers in no particular way, brushing past Andrea's engorged clitoris every so often. With each brush Andrea shuddered harder, her body filled with tension as Miranda tortured her as well as she could.

The power Miranda felt as she guided Andrea toward orgasm was astounding. Andrea was so giving, so raw, so open that Miranda simply could not get enough. Pulling her mouth away from luscious breasts, Miranda rested her forehead against Andrea's as she stared into darkened eyes. "Andrea," she moaned, feeling her body straining to reach its goal. While they maintained their gaze, Miranda watched Andrea climax, and she followed soon after. Miranda lifted her head as she repositioned and ground their centers together. _God!_ It felt so good. Picking up the pace, Miranda braced her hands on either side of Andrea's body as they raced toward another orgasm. When it hit, Miranda froze in place for a joyous moment, throat muscles working as she let loose a guttural moan that seemed to be ripped from her very soul.

Moving her body with more pronounced rolls of the hips instead of the sharp, short jerking of a few minutes ago, Miranda could feel a deeper, more profound orgasm calling to her. Reveling in the physical sensations driving her to claim Andrea's body once more, Miranda shifted again and began circling Andrea's opening with her fingers as she looked into glazed eyes.

"Yes, Miranda. Please. Don't stop," Andrea said throatily. She wasted no time, entering Andrea with two fingers and rubbing firmly with each thrust. Andrea's moans and whimpers drove her crazy as she slid her body over Andrea's leg again and again. Her pace became frenetic as she felt another orgasm overtaking her. Miranda called out to Andrea, her voice so primitive that it was nearly unrecognizable. Andrea's body kept pace and soon she could feel Andrea's body clinging forcefully to her fingers for several seconds as their bodies gyrated together.

She wanted to do so much more. She had hardly even explored Andrea's body, but her body was insisting that she rest. She vaguely registered that Andrea was stroking her back slowly, soothingly. Miranda snuggled into the crook of Andrea's neck and murmured, "I'm not through with you. I haven't even begun to do what I intend to do." She felt a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

"Well then, we'll just have to continue after we have restored our energy with some sleep."

Sleep sounded good, nearly as good as the steady thrumming of Andrea's heart beneath her ear. Miranda withdrew her fingers slowly, not wishing to cause discomfort, and cupped the area possessively. Soon, although Miranda did not wish it, she gave in to her body's lethargy, submitting to the dictates of a well-sated body. She slept.

Staring at the roaring fire as the wood snapped, Andy sighed with contentment. It was hard to believe that she was sitting in Miranda's home after a long, pleasurable day spent with three females she was quickly growing to love. Without much struggle, she had fallen willingly under their charms.

Today was a day of firsts. The first day she had ever attended the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The first day she had played Wii. The first day she had awakened to Miranda's loving ministrations. Andy shook her head, amazed. The woman seemed insatiable. It was hard to believe that Miranda found her so irresistible. Yet, Andy certainly wasn't complaining. She loved every moment she found herself the recipient of heated gazes and passionate touches.

Of course, Miranda had acted appropriately while they were at her friend's house watching the parade and while with the girls, but whenever they were alone, even for just a few moments, it was as if a veil was lifted, revealing a woman barely able to control her desires. Andy felt powerful, knowing she could affect Miranda to such an extent.

Andy looked up when she heard the tell-tale clacking of heels on the hallway floors. Miranda entered the room bearing filled glasses of wine. She handed one to Andy with a slight curl of her lips before taking a seat next to her.

"Thank you," Andy said while keeping her eyes on Miranda.

After settling herself and taking a sip of her wine, Miranda tilted her head, gazing at Andy for several moments. "What is troubling you, darling?" she asked softly.

Smiling ruefully at how easily Miranda could read her, Andy stalled by sipping from her glass as she attempted to marshal her thoughts. "It's work," Andy answered. "After the photo shoot on Tuesday, I stopped by the boutique to begin planning the next display." Andy glanced at Miranda. She sat listening attentively, her face pensive. "When I got there, I noticed that they had hired another person, which is fine," Andy was quick to assert. "I've been making enough money since starting the displays that I no longer have to work as many hours. But, the problem was, I mean, what I discovered…" Andy took another sip. In some ways she was afraid to say it, since then she would have to make some tough decisions, decisions that would change the direction of her life.

Andy started when Miranda laid a warm hand on her knee. "Tell me, Andrea. You must know I will do everything in my power to support you." Andy nodded slowly.

"When I got there, I saw Harold speaking to a man near the display. Something seemed off about it, so I got close enough to hear without revealing my presence. He was trying to strike a deal where he would deliver my paintings once I changed them out and get paid for them. Without my knowledge or consent." Andy picked at invisible lint on her pant leg. She did not look up, not wanting to see Miranda's reaction just yet.

"When I realized what was happening, I confronted them. The man turned out to be Clive Ludsky. I actually met with him yesterday before I joined Cassidy to play basketball. He wants to showcase my work at his gallery next month. That combined with the work Albert Watson has offered me will help me to support myself if I decide to leave Lost Treasures, but," Andy shrugged, "if it weren't for Harold I wouldn't have all these opportunities now. He gave me the chance to design the windows, not knowing whether I could do a good job. I guess, I'm having trouble walking away, even though he betrayed me."

Finally Andy looked up and froze, surprised to see anger evident in Miranda's eyes. "Miranda?" Andy asked. Miranda seemed to shake herself from her thoughts, a calm look settling over her features.

"I am glad that Clive approached you. Nigel had mentioned his interest a few weeks ago. Nor am I surprised that Albert asked you to work with him. You are able to write your own ticket now. You can freelance with designers, photographers, and department stores while showing your work at various art galleries, if you so wish." Miranda's words of praise warmed Andy.

"Thank you, Miranda. That means so much coming from you. I hope, I hope you understand why I cannot work for you directly," Andy said hesitantly.

Miranda waved a hand. "You will be working for me indirectly, Andrea. Our paths cannot help but cross in this industry, particularly with the trajectory you are traveling. I am well aware, though, that given the changes in our relationship, it would not be prudent for you to be my employee."

Nodding, Andy said, "Exactly. It would cause complications between us that I'd rather avoid." Andy smiled, feeling shy suddenly. "I knew that when I met you last year my life would change. And it did. In two minutes you altered my perspective to such an extent that I changed my career goal aspirations. Just like that." Andy snapped her fingers as emphasis. Noticing the questioning look on Miranda's face, Andy continued.

"I realized that I had distanced myself from what I most loved in some futile attempt to escape the grief I felt over my Mom's death. I was…I was angry that she died, and I pushed away what she loved most—fashion—as a result." Andy looked into Miranda's eyes, even as she felt the tears building. "Meeting you, bombing so spectacularly during that interview, it shook me awake. I realized what I had done, and I cleaned up my act. I began to embrace that part of my life which I had experienced with my mom again." She swiped at the tears and produced a watery smile. "And my life started to get better."

"So, you are saying that it was better I was not your primary employer because I acted as some type of catalyst in your life?" Miranda asked.

"Well, yes. I mean, look what happened the first time I met you. And then when you entered my life again," Andy spread her hands wide, "you turned my life upside down. I mean you brought attention to what I was doing at the boutique and propelled my career forward by several years, opening up avenues to me that someone of my age and experience would normally not have."

Andy reached over to take Miranda's warm hand in hers. "More importantly, somehow, for some inexplicable reason, you opened your heart to me. And I am so grateful, Miranda."

"You really have no idea, do you, Andrea?" Miranda said as she leaned over to deliver a tender kiss. "I knew the first time I saw your window displays that you were special. You encompass a pure, unsullied creative spark that I have rarely seen in this business. I was drawn to that. Intrigued."

Feeling long fingers stroke her cheek, Andy closed her eyes. She felt sweet breath on her lips just before Miranda kissed her. Slowly they shifted positions so that Andy was prostrate with Miranda resting on her. "Andrea, I would have settled for building a friendship with you, if that were all you were willing to share with me. I knew that I wanted you in my life in some capacity." Andrea arched as Miranda delivered open-mouthed kisses down her throat while a hand found its way under her sweater, driving Andy crazy as she felt nonsensical shapes delicately drawn over her ribcage.

"I am not a woman who questions her decisions. If I did, I would not be where I am today. Yet, I am intelligent enough to not make the same mistake twice. Your reentering my life was not an accident. It was a second chance. Although I am certain that if I had hired you last year, you would have changed me in some fundamental way, it is also likely that you would not be lying in my arms right now."

Andy shook her head, ready to deny Miranda's words. They were meant to be together. It just hadn't been the right time last year. A finger against Andy's lips stopped her from expressing her thoughts.

"Shhh. We will never know, Andrea. It doesn't matter. Last year you were a diamond in the rough. I did not take the time to really look at you, and I lost you. You came back to me, though, and I am not about to lose you again."

Andy sighed as they kissed, swept away by Miranda's fervor. Feeling Miranda pull away, Andy opened her eyes in question. "Why have I opened my heart to you?" Miranda whispered, her voice laden with some indefinable emotion. Andy lost her breath, captivated by the intense look in Miranda's eyes. "I know I can trust you with it. That is a priceless gift to me. And you have inspired me. I can imagine days filled with passion, creativity, and heart—all because of you, because of who you are."

As Andy gazed into darkened blue eyes, she could see the truth of Miranda's words. She was blessed. Truly blessed. Not able to resist, Andy framed Miranda's face with her hands and pulled her forward for another kiss. Languid, bottomless kisses—Andy loved this sensation of being immersed in Miranda, surrounded by her. She could feel Miranda's curves sinking into her as their tongues glided together, one of Miranda's hands curved around the back of Andy's neck while the other hand rested on her hip.

"Come to bed, darling," Miranda murmured against Andy's lips. Andy couldn't suppress a moan, her desire for Miranda rising to the forefront once more. She felt the loss keenly as Miranda rose gracefully and extended a hand. Andy smiled as they stood close together, allowing the tension to build before they turned toward the stairs and ascended, hand-in-hand.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

After thinking it over during the holiday weekend, Andy decided to return to Lost Treasures to design and dress the windows one more time before ending her tenure there. She entered the store slowly after watching the crowds outside peering at the _Jane Eyre_ displays.

"Andy! Let's go in the back room to talk for a bit," Harold said, waving her forward.

She took off her jacket and hung it up as she attempted to control her emotions. A surge of anger had swept through her when she had first spotted Harold. She was sure no one would blame her for walking right back out. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Andy slowly turned toward Harold.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Andy asked politely.

"Yes. I wanted to apologize. Listen, Andy. We really appreciate all you've done for us. I never meant to hurt you. What I did was stupid and selfish. I hope you'll stay with us," Harold, his expression a study of earnestness.

Andy didn't believe any of it. She shook her head. "Harold, I am giving you one week's notice. I'll work this week and set up a new window display, but that's it. You have someone else working the floor, now, and I'm sure there are plenty of people who would love to decorate your windows, particularly since your shop has received so much publicity." _Because of me. And because of Miranda_, Andy did not say.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" Harold asked, crestfallen. "I can up your commission percentage…and pay you separately for your work on the displays."

Eying the man pensively, Andy thought about it. She and Miranda had discussed how much Andy could demand for her work with designers, photographers, and department stores. Andy was keen to freelance designs. Miranda had also coached her with the prices she could attach to her paintings and drawings that Clive planned to showcase next month. If Miranda was right, and Andy had no reason to believe otherwise, Andy's bank account would be filling up rather dramatically in the very near future. With the money she had saved over the last few months, she could afford to walk away from Lost Treasures today. And her pride demanded it.

However, she would not quit without giving her notice, without fulfilling her responsibilities. She would not childishly, not to mention unprofessionally, leave in a fit of piqué, regardless of how satisfying that might feel. She shook her head. "You can't afford me, Harold. Let me finish out the week, and we'll part ways. I'll always feel grateful for the opportunities you gave me, but I won't forget what you did." Andy pressed her lips together and stared grimly at Harold. Her mind was made up.

"Okay, Andy," Harold said. She nodded and left the backroom.

The day passed quickly as she planned for the next and final display she would design for Lost Treasures. A constant flow of customers purchased clothes and accessories throughout the day and into the evening. Andy was astounded when she realized that, not only had she missed lunch, but also dinner. The store telephone rang once more, and Andy picked it up as she finished helping another customer at the register. "Lost Treasures. This is Andy. How can I help you?"

"Why are you there, Andrea?"

"I—what? Miranda?" Andy finished the sale and moved away from the counter so she could concentrate on the call. "How did you know I was here?"

"Really, Andrea. What a ridiculous question. I am still waiting for your answer," Miranda said, her annoyance carrying through her voice clearly.

"I gave my notice today. I am going to work for the rest of the week," Andy said as she leaned against the wall, idly watching Grace work.

"After what he did to you? Did you fall down and smack your little head on the pavement?" Miranda hissed.

"No. Not that I can recall. I—it would have been unprofessional to just quit without notice, Miranda," Andy said in a low voice, not wanting to be overheard.

"Oh, and I suppose his betrayal was perfectly professional, Andrea?" Miranda responded.

"No, of course not. But I will not sink to that level. My reputation is important, particularly after what he did. I'd rather take the high road." Andy sighed. "I realize you disagree, but I feel this is the best way to handle it."

"Hm. And I suppose you have worked the entire day," Miranda drawled.

"Well, yes. It's been busy—"

"Thanks to your displays, no doubt," Miranda continued.

"And thanks to you, Miranda," Andy said quickly.

"Yes. Don't remind me. Come outside. Right now." Before Andy could say anything, the line went dead. She looked at the receiver blankly for a moment before hanging it up and turning to Grace.

"I'll be right back, Grace," Andy said and headed for the backroom to grab her coat. Walking through the front door, Andy stopped short, surprised to see the silver Mercedes idling at the curb.

The window opened just enough for Andy to see Miranda, who jerked her head toward the passenger door. "Get in."

Hurrying around the car, Andy slid inside the warm interior. "Hi," Andy smiled, happy at the unexpected visit. She was pleased to see Miranda's lips curl into a smile.

"I don't have long, but I wanted to see you for at least a few minutes. That is for you." Miranda pointed toward a bag on the floor near Andy's feet. Leaning forward, she opened it a bit to see what was inside and nearly swooned as a tasty aroma flooded her senses.

"Mmm. That smells wonderful." She turned toward Miranda. "Thank you." Not sure whether Miranda would allow Andy to kiss her, she settled for covering Miranda's hand with her own and squeezing. When she saw Miranda lean toward her, Andy quickly leaned in, too.

The kiss was slow and sweet, as if she had come home after a long journey. Andy sighed happily and felt a smile against her lips. Pulling back, Andy smiled into sparkling eyes. "I'm so glad you came by."

"As am I. Are you free for lunch on Wednesday?" Miranda asked.

"Yes. It's my day off, actually. I'll be changing the displays tomorrow night." Andy smiled again as she thought of her plans. She didn't have time to paint a scene, but she didn't really need to. The story was famous enough that she believed others would recognize it.

"Well, then. I will pick you up at one so you can sleep in a bit," Miranda murmured before swooping back in for another kiss, this one a bit more passionate. Andy whimpered when Miranda sucked on her lower lip before breaking the kiss. "I have to go, darling. I will see you soon." Nodding, Andy took the food and left the car, waiting on the sidewalk until it had pulled into traffic.

The next day flew by as Andy rounded up what she needed to change the display and worked the floor, helping customers, answering questions, and ringing up sales. When the doors closed for the day, Andy became a ball of energy, the familiar feeling of excitement at the thought of creating new displays buzzing through her.

Five hours later, Andy stepped back and expelled a large breath, pleased with the results of her efforts. In the first window, Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins danced at the Embassy Ball. Henry wore a Hugo Boss black tuxedo with tails, a white pique wing-collared shirt with stiff front, white waistcoat, and white bowtie. He looked distinguished and elegant. Eliza wore a fabulous white Lagerfeld gown with a modified empire silhouette and stunning beadwork that reflected the lights. Long white evening gloves and costume jewelry such as drop earrings and a tiara that held in place an elegant hairstyle made it clear that they were at a formal affair. They had eyes only for each other, however, as they stood in motion.

The second display reflected the last scene from _My Fair Lady_. In it, Henry sat in a wingback chair, hat over his face and legs crossed at the ankle as Eliza stood smiling at the door, in one hand a pair of men's slippers. One could easily hear Henry's last words, "Eliza, where the devil are my slippers?" ringing in the air. Henry wore a Burberry three-piece charcoal gray wool suit with a matching fedora. Eliza wore a pale pink Balenciaga evening floor-length gown of silk chiffon over a satin underdress with a fitted waist and flowing lines.

This is how she felt around Miranda: as if she had been the student striving so hard to impress her mentor. And somehow, without her knowing quite how, she had not only succeeded in making Miranda notice her, but also in capturing her heart. It was a good thing, too, since Miranda mesmerized Andy each and every time their paths crossed. And after this past weekend, Andy felt chills race up her spine and smiled, she did not want to even contemplate a life without Miranda in it. Sure she could be abrasive and opinionated, but she was also honest and brilliant. She was falling in love with Miranda Priestly.

Yes, these scenes reflected well her life. It was a fairytale come true. Although she did not know what would happen next, Andy had high hopes for the future. If Andy had any say in it, she would make sure that Miranda wanted to keep her around, even if only to retrieve her slippers.

* * *

><p>The doorbell rang, breaking Miranda's concentration. Cocking her head, Miranda listened but did not hear any noise. How odd. The girls were with their father for the weekend, and Andrea had mentioned meeting her friends for drinks. Tomorrow they would spend the day together. Hopefully in bed. Miranda smiled devilishly.<p>

For the past six weeks they had spent all their free time together. Admittedly, it wasn't as much as she would have liked. The demands on her time had not lessened, and Andrea was in high demand now, too.

Hearing the doorbell ring again and what sounded like pounding on the door, Miranda rose from her desk and made her way to the front of the house. _Whoever it was had better have a very good reason for_—Miranda stepped back in shock as Andrea pushed the door open wider and stomped inside.

Miranda could not understand what she was seeing. Never had Andrea directed such an angry look toward her.

"Andrea?"

"How could you blackball Lost Treasures? You should have talked to me. Harold called me up today, and he made me feel horrible. He told me he couldn't get pieces from any of the designers—no one will even talk to him." Andrea ran a hand threw her hair, disheveling it as she began to pace.

"Lower your voice immediately," Miranda responded in an icy voice. _How dare she come into my home and raise her voice at me._

"Oh, no. You don't get to speak to me that way," Andrea raged as she stepped into Miranda's space. Miranda took a step back, shocked. "Why would you do this? I didn't tell you what happened so you would do this!"

"Knowing what I could do to that little resale shop, why did you take the chance of telling me how that pitiful shop owner had betrayed you if not so I would exact revenge on your behalf? You must have known after working for several months in the fashion industry just how ruthless I can be," Miranda said, her voice mild even as her heart beat furiously. The dim hallway cast shadows across Andrea's face, emphasizing her fury and shielding her dark eyes.

"Truthfully, I was afraid to tell you about Harold because you could so easily ruin him, but I wanted to tell you since you are my lover—I needed your support, your advice. And I trusted that you wouldn't destroy him, if only because I asked you not to." Andy said, her voice full of accusation.

"You never asked me to refrain from acting against that little shop, Andrea." Miranda turned and led the way into the sitting room. She took a deep breath and sat on the sofa. Andrea sat at the far end, her hands balled into fists.

"Come on, Miranda! You knew I didn't want you to bury that shop. I've told you how thankful I am that they allowed me to decorate the windows. You should have told me what you were planning. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be working for photographers and designers, and my work wouldn't be in that art gallery right now! As a matter of fact, we wouldn't even be together!" Andrea waved her hands in the air, her agitation reflected through her erratic motions.

"Andrea. That pitiful man hurt you. I could not ignore that fact while his business prospered through your efforts, particularly after you left." Miranda looked at her fingers nails, wondering whether she could fit a manicure in Thursday afternoon. "Besides, all I did was spread the word of what he had tried to do. The designers made their own decisions on how to react."

"But that wasn't your story to spread. I told you what had happened in confidence—" Andrea began heatedly.

"You told the editor-in-chief of the premier fashion magazine in the world how a little nothing clothing shop that had benefited from her actions and the actions of someone she treasures had attempted to capitalize on those efforts in an unscrupulous way. And you told _me_ how your boss had betrayed _you_. Whether you like it or not, Andrea, I have power you do not yet possess. And whether you like it or not, I will not stand by idly while anyone hurts those I love," Miranda said heatedly.

_Why couldn't Andrea understand?_ Her ability to destroy anyone in the fashion industry rested on her unwillingness to wield such power too often. Yet, in this situation she had deemed it necessary. He had hurt Andrea. He had hurt one of the most important people in Miranda's world.

"This wasn't your fight, Miranda. Can't you understand? I have to fight my own battles or else everyone will assume I am hiding behind your skirt-tails." Andrea's voice was less irate, but she still seemed upset.

"It is you who does not understand. I will do whatever is necessary to protect my family. You may be just making a name for yourself, but I am well-established and well-connected. By extension, so are you," Miranda said softly.

"People will think you are protecting me," Andrea worried.

"Is that so bad? Now they'll know that I favor you. It will only work to your benefit for your career," Miranda pointed out.

"No, it's not bad. It's just, I wanted to do this on my own. Make my own way. I want to be worthy of you," Andrea quietly admitted.

Miranda slid over and lifted up that lovely face so Andrea would see how serious she was while saying the next words.

"Worthy of me? Andrea, haven't you been listening? You are the treasure here." Miranda ran elegant fingers down Andy's cheek, pausing on her shoulder. "I am not an easy woman to love. Nor do I suffer fools gladly. With my work, I do not have the luxury of trusting people simply because most want something from me. I have been betrayed more times than I care to recount, and I am sad to say, I trust very few as a result. I am in the middle of a divorce from my second husband. I have two teenage daughters. And yet," Miranda smiled tenderly, "and yet here you are in my life. I will always want to protect you. And when someone hurts you, I will strike back brutally so that others will think twice."

Andrea did not seem happy, but she did look resigned.

"You said I am family…that I am someone you love," Andrea said softly, gazing at Miranda bashfully.

"Yes, I did. You are. I love you, Andrea. I did not expect this. I did not expect this at all. However, I refuse to deny that these feelings exist." Miranda held her head high even as she felt her face flush.

Miranda sat still as Andrea peered into her face before pulling her into a bear hug. Miranda's breath caught when Andrea kissed her behind the ear and whispered, "Thank you. I know your heart was in the right place. But please, please let me know next time. It's like when I asked you to not put in a good word for me anywhere. I need to know I am succeeding because of my actions, my talent—not yours."

"My dear Andrea, you are. Please do not question your talents. They are astounding, as are you," Miranda said. "I am blessed to have you in my life."

Not liking the sad look on Andrea's face at all, Miranda said, "Don't leave. Stay tonight." Miranda's heart lurched when she saw Andrea hesitate. _Was she still angry?_

"I don't know that I'd be very good company, Miranda," Andrea hedged.

"Nonsense. If you are still upset, I'd much rather you remain here than leave. In fact, I'll open a bottle of wine. You're not an angry drunk, are you, Andrea?" Miranda teased. She looked at Andrea briefly, noting the shake of her head, and made her way to the kitchen.

Two hours and two bottles of wine later, Miranda could not stop laughing. Andrea was positively adorable when drunk. Smart, emotional, happy, and philosophical—Miranda found the woman irresistible.

"Stop laughing! I'm serious, Miranda—haven't you ever noticed? Don't tell me you haven't. You can pretend all you want, but I know you have," Andrea said as she leaned into Miranda's side.

"Really, Andrea. Don't be ridiculous. Emily does not glower as I do." Miranda sniffed. "As if she could."

Andrea's laughter filled the room and Miranda's heart. She loved that laugh, loved being a part of the reason for the laughter. Miranda pulled Andrea forward for a sloppy but heartfelt kiss.

"Mmm. You taste so good, Miranda. I love kissing you." Andrea's face became thoughtful, signaling another round of philosophical debate. Miranda braced herself, smirking in anticipation. "Don't smirk. This is serious," Andrea said. "Miranda." Andrea waited a few moments, pulling back a bit and gazing at Miranda before continuing. "Miranda. I know why you came into my life both times, but I want to know, why do you think I came back into your life?"

Blinking slowly, Miranda attempted to concentrate on the question. It was difficult with Andrea draped all over her. Turning her head slightly, Miranda assumed a serious expression. "You came back into my life to gift me with your vision. Whether that is embodied through your paintings and drawings, your window display designs and photo shoot ideas, or your writing and philosophical discussions," Miranda smiled softly, "Andrea, you enrich my life. You make me happy." Miranda paused before saying mostly to herself, "Why did you come back to me? To save me from an unfulfilling life. Only you could remove the yearning I have felt for something more."

Done with the drunken confessions, Miranda pulled Andrea's sweater off of her delectable body and began exploring her heaving chest with her lips. She always tasted so sweet, so good.

Nodding, Andrea began unbuttoning Miranda's blouse as best she could without being able to see what she was doing. "As it so happens, you make me happy, too. In fact, I believe that I am the fortunate one. I will always feel grateful for the chance of loving you." Andrea kissed Miranda lovingly. "Let's go to bed."

It wasn't long before they were in the bedroom and Andrea was removing Miranda's blouse. Miranda ran a hand through silky locks as Andrea unfastened Miranda's lacy black bra and kissed her way toward the side button on Miranda's fitted wool slacks. She realized that she had missed Andrea desperately over the last few days. It was easy to push aside the longing while immersed in work. But with Andrea kneeling before her, gently lifting one of Miranda's legs and then the other to remove her pants, the want reared up powerfully.

Looking down, Miranda was captured by chocolate eyes.

"I love you, Miranda. I hope you know that," she whispered.

"Mm. I do know, my dear Andrea." Miranda knelt so that their knees touched and leaned forward to rest her forehead against Andrea's. "I know."


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

Viewing herself in the full-length mirror nervously, Andy ran her hands down the sides of her gown. She wore a fitted, strapless Isaac Mizrahi silk-faille peplum dress, white with raised polka dots. A thin black belt accentuated her hour-glass figure—well, she had hips and her abdomen was flat. Soon she would be in the town car with Miranda on their way to the last event for Paris Fashion Week. Andy was surprised that Miranda had asked her to attend with her.

For the last fifteen months they had kept their romance under wraps. Although Miranda hadn't mentioned it, Andy suspected the divorce had finally finished. Stephen had spitefully tried to delay the process well beyond the one year mandatory waiting period. Six months after the filing, Andy could see the toll it had been taking on Miranda. But not this week.

Even though Miranda was as focused on the shows and designers as she usually was, Andy had learned to read the signs. When they first had arrived in Paris, separately since Andy was working with several of the designers for their fashion shows and photographers as they captured the clothes displayed on the catwalks, Miranda had seemed tired and distracted. Andy knew better than to ask. Instead, she had done what she could to place a smile on Miranda's face during the rare moments they were able to share together.

Yet, a few days into the trip, Miranda had begun to relax more. Nothing most people would notice, although Nigel had mentioned it at one of the after-parties. He was one of the few people who knew they were together. He was about to move into a new position, courtesy of Miranda, once they returned from Paris. Miranda had announced the global move for Natalee Smith with Nigel at the helm. The bold colors and flowing, asymmetrical designs had thrust the South African designer into the spotlight as the "It" designer over the last year. Andy was happy for Nigel—Miranda had been looking for a way to propel him forward for the past year after some type of political maneuvering had occurred at _Runway_.

Miranda was very good at maneuvering behind the scenes. After their heated discussion about Miranda blackballing Lost Treasures, Miranda had lifted the ban. When asked about the little shop, Miranda would merely shrug and turn away. People understood pretty quickly that, although it was no longer shunned, nor was the boutique endorsed by Miranda or anyone of import. Soon the shop's sales diminished, and now they were an afterthought. Miranda liked to tell Andy that it was where she had found a priceless treasure she had once lost. Andy smirked. Miranda could be so mushy at times.

Last night they had met for a late dinner and then returned to Miranda's hotel suite for a nightcap. Andy had anticipated having to depart to her lonely hotel room soon after the drink. Instead, Miranda had wined and dined her, focusing on her during their meal as if she had all the time in the world and cared only to share it with her. Andy, knowing how valuable Miranda's time was, took this gesture for the gift it was. Once in the privacy of Miranda's room, Andy had been pleasantly surprised to receive her amorous attentions. They had made love for hours before falling asleep while wrapped around each other.

_Andy woke up to kisses on her abdomen, causing her stomach muscles to contract. "Miranda," she whispered as her hands gripped the disheveled sheets, trying to ground herself. Looking down, she was captured by glowing blue eyes. A nose nudged her clitoris, making her twitch and arch as she widened her legs. Miranda lifted Andy's thighs on her shoulders and dove in, sticking her tongue into Andy forcefully. _

"_Ahh, Miranda!" Andy screeched, as she pushed forward to feel more. Practiced fingers rubbed at her bundle of nerves, making her whimper. Miranda began to hum as she moved her tongue upward and entered Andy with two fingers. Slowly, so slowly, she thrust and rubbed, causing Andy to groan at how wonderful it felt. "Yes, Miranda. Just like that. Don't stop!" _

_And she didn't._

_An orgasm crashed over her so strongly that Andy froze in the air before flopping back on the bed as her body continued to tremble pleasantly. Andy took deep breaths, her eyes mere slits as she watched Miranda wipe her face on the sheets and reposition herself. She crossed her arms and rested them on top of Andy's thighs, her chin propped on them, effectively pinning her down._

"_Good morning, Andrea," she purred. Andy laughed with delight._

"_What a way to wake up! Come up here so I can return the favor," Andy said, her hands reaching for Miranda._

"_That's not necessary. Just let me look at you for a moment, darling. I have missed you," Miranda said._

"_Me, too." With their schedules leading up to Paris, they had hardly seen each other, and when they had been able to coordinate some time, it was never for long. No sleepovers, no private time for the last month. Andy had feared that Miranda might not care as much as she did—certainly she had seemed to be unaffected by the separation. It was wonderful to hear otherwise._

"_I love you, Andrea. I know keeping this relationship under wraps has been hard. But I want you to know that I do not intend to keep our love a secret any longer. Will you go to the gala with me tonight?" _

"_Oh, I'd love to. What time should I meet you there?" Whenever their schedules had allowed it over the past week, Andy had attended the same functions Miranda had and joined her while Nigel ran interference with those who desired Miranda's time. Before the rush of fashion week had uprooted their routine, they had met at least once per week for dinner and twice for lunch during the work week. In addition, just about every weekend Andy stayed at the townhouse. No one thought twice about the shared meals, and no one knew the true nature of their relationship except the girls and Nigel. Andy had decided that it was better not to tell her family, or anyone else for that matter, until Miranda was ready to go public._

"_Andrea, you misunderstand me. I want you to go with me. As my date," Miranda said with a serious look on her face._

"_You, really? Are you sure? I mean, maybe we should look at today's paper to see if anyone picked up on last night's dinner first," Andy said. She ran a hand through Miranda's hair. "I know your divorce hasn't exactly been smooth sailing. Now that the press has quieted down, I'd hate to cause you trouble."_

"_Andrea, I couldn't care less what the paparazzi say about me, and the girls are itching to talk about you to their friends, to show you off, and have you over more often. I feel the same way." Miranda kissed Andy's hip. "Besides, I saw the papers this morning. There is a wonderful picture of us holding hands while we dined. I plan on requesting a copy to frame," Miranda announced with a smirk. _

_Feeling her eyebrows rocket off her face, Andy took a moment to digest all the information. "I'd love to attend the gala with you," Andy said. She smiled brightly with the realization that Miranda intended for everyone to know about them. It was surprising. And wonderful. "I love you," Andy said._

"_I know," Miranda answered with a smile. "Let's take a shower. We'll have just enough time for breakfast before we part." _

_Andy had watched Miranda rise, appreciating just how beautiful she was. She would never tire of looking at her. When Miranda had stopped and looked at Andy, her expression had been so affectionate, so tender, Andy had gasped. Blinking back sudden tears, Andy had joined Miranda quickly, hugging her closely for several moments before pulling back. They had smiled at each other, then made their way to the shower._

A knock on the door shook her from the events of this morning. Andy answered it and stepped back to allow Miranda to enter. She looked fabulous in a form-fitting, strapless black Chanel gown. "Wow," Andy breathed. "You look spectacular."

"Thank you, Andrea. You look quite stunning tonight," Miranda answered as she stepped forward to deliver a light kiss. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. Absolutely." Andy knew Miranda was referring to more than merely that night's events. They were entering a new phase in their relationship, one where others would know and pass judgment. It didn't matter. Andy loved Miranda—she would weather any storm to be with her. Although certainly worth it, building a relationship while always checking to make sure no one was suspicious that they were more than friends had been tough. She smiled confidently at Miranda. "Lead the way."

"Hm. Yes. Before we go," Miranda reached into her clutch and withdrew a box. "This is for you." She seemed anxious, which intrigued Andy.

With shaking fingers, Andy opened it. Inside were nestled a diamond tennis bracelet and platinum and diamond drop earrings. Andy stared at them, speechless. She shook her head slightly and blinked her eyes. "Miranda," Andy whispered. Sure hands took the box and placed it on a nearby table. Andy felt gentle fingers lift up her chin.

"Andrea, I love you. Will you consider moving in with me and the girls?" Miranda asked.

Shaking like a leaf as emotions rolled through her, Andy nodded mutely. She watched a large smile cross Miranda's face and nearly swooned. "Are you sure, Miranda? I love you. You know that. Don't feel you need to do this to keep me with you. I'm not going anywhere."

"I want you with me, Andrea. I have missed you desperately this last month. Although work obligations may keep us apart at times, I do not intend to go so long without seeing you again. Are you sure, Andrea? It will be quite a change. If you are not ready, if I am moving too quickly, I am counting on you to tell me. I will not think less of you." Miranda scratched lightly at the nape of Andy's neck.

Remembering the last time Miranda had uttered such words, Andy smiled. So much had changed, and yet the feelings were still strong and pure. She loved this woman, needed her. To be able to fall asleep in her arms, to see her every day—Andy was excited to begin this next chapter in their lives. "You aren't rushing me. Far from it. I'd love to live with you." Andy leaned in to deliver a delicate kiss, an affirmation of her dedication to their relationship.

Soon Andy wore her gifts as they strolled down the red carpet, hands clasped firmly. Their names were shouted from all directions, but Andy only cared that Miranda was next to her. "I can't wait to tell Caroline and Cassidy," Andy whispered. Miranda's smile as she turned toward Andy was captured for all of prosperity, displayed in several newspapers the next day.

"This is merely the beginning, Andrea. Together, we will change the face of fashion."

Looking into Miranda's eyes, Andy believed every word.

The End.

A/N I hope you enjoyed this one. Now that I am all caught up on posting my stories properly-in chapters-I will start posting some stories that have not found their way to this website. If you liked this story or any of the others, please let me know. It keeps the Muse happy.


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